


The Virtue of Obstinance

by rosetea writes fe3h (roseteawrites)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (esp felix), Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, I was playing Azure Moon when I watched Bridgerton and this is the result, Matchmaking, Multiple Minor Pairings - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Regency Romance, WARNING: brief description of attempted sexual assault in chapter 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseteawrites/pseuds/rosetea%20writes%20fe3h
Summary: A season in Fhirdiad sounds like the perfect opportunity for Annette to track down her estranged father...only people keep interrupting her search with absurd things like marriage proposals. And why does everyone keep insisting that Duke Fraldarius' son is enamored with her? More importantly, aren't these sorts of parties supposed to have cakes?Now featuring:  foreign princes, boorish suitors, secret marriages, unsuitable matches, unrequited love that is actually requited, and way too many fancy parties.Updates on Fridays.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 54
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One important note: for the purposes of the story, there is no Leicester Alliance. I combined it with the Kingdom in order to fill out the nobility a bit.
> 
> This is unbeta'd so the mistakes are all mine. I'm striving to update every Friday. I really hope you enjoy this! Thank you <3

“Darling,” said Lady Dominic as she approached her daughter with a letter in hand, “I have had some news from your dear uncle.”

Hastily—and without much grace—Annette attempted to shove her book of magical theorem behind her own stack of unanswered correspondence. From the stormcloud growing on her mother’s brow, she had not been quick enough to avoid detection.

“If you’re referring to him as _dear_ ,” she said, attempting to delay the inevitable lecture on studying unladylike subjects before her mother’s news was completely forgotten, “he must have done something extremely generous.”

Constance Dominic’s frown deepened. “Is that generous, when he’s looked after us all this time?”

Annette didn’t answer. She also didn’t manage to keep her own frown from darkening her countenance. Yes, her uncle had overseen their maintenance since her father had disappeared to the prince’s side four years ago, but his care had been cold and distant all the same. They were a mere charity to be borne out of duty, since Annette’s father had decided his own duties lay elsewhere.

“Nevermind.” Lady Dominic held out the letter. “Baron Dominic has invited us to Fhirdiad for the season. You shall meet far better candidates for marriage in the capital, I should think. It really is a wonderfully kind gesture.”

“Wonderfully,” Annette agreed as she accepted the paper. Perhaps it was kind, but it was also to be her _third_ season. The tardiness of the offer sent a clear message: Baron Dominic was getting desperate. His unmarried niece was the last of the line, so all of his hopes must be resting on her producing a legitimate heir for the barony. There was no more time to waste on finding a husband.

Annette wanted to marry. Of course she did. At some point, a house and family of her own sounded like a dream come true. But she wasn’t sure she was ready yet. At eighteen, she was edging ever closer to spinsterhood, and she was sure that everyone in their local circle thought her an odd, eccentric young lady with little hope of securing a great match for herself. Yet it was hard to care about finding some stranger to marry when she had a far loftier goal in mind: she must bring her father back home.

Suddenly she perked up. If she truly meant to entice her father back into the embrace of his family, this could be a perfect opportunity. He would be in Fhirdiad along with the crown prince—and the prince would no doubt be very involved in the season. He had no choice, after all, as he was just as badly in need of a bride as the debutantes would be in need of husbands. Which meant there would be plenty of ballrooms in which she could corner Gustave Dominic and talk some sense into him.

“I’ll start packing right away,” she told her mother, ignoring the way the lady’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. Clearly Lady Dominic had expected to have to coax her daughter into accepting this invitation. But she must have been desperate to see Annette promised to some eligible bachelor too, because she simply rang for a servant to help and left Annette to her task.

 _I’m coming for you, Father._ Annette closed her eyes and tried to picture his face. _Even if it takes attending every event of the season, I_ will _find you._

* * *

Fhirdiad was cloaked in white. It was a beautiful city with classical buildings painted in various, spring-like colors that glowed against the pristine snow. The streets were filling up with carriages as the nobility flocked back to the capital for the social season, and as their horses made their careful way toward Dominic House, Annette pressed her face to the glass and watched the growing commotion.

They passed Gautier House and she caught sight of the margrave himself scolding his sons on the steps while their servants hustled around back with their luggage. Neither of the young men seemed to be paying much attention, but the youngest—Sylvain—glanced her way. He met her eyes through the glass of her carriage and sent her a rakish grin, accompanied by a _wink_ of all things, and Annette felt a blush explode across her cheeks before she jerked her face forward and resumed staring at the velvet of the seat in front of her.

“You shall have to learn to school your emotions, dearest,” her mother murmured. “Certainly if you find a husband among the nobility here you shall find yourself in the public eye, and it would not do for every thought to show itself so plainly in your countenance.”

Annette managed not to scrunch her nose up in distaste, but her mother sighed anyway. So much for schooling her emotions.

Before long, their carriage was gliding to a stop in front of Dominic House. The Baron was waiting for them, along with a small staff of servants, and as the horses were reined in he approached the carriage door and offered his hand to attend the ladies out. Annette studied him as she got her footing—rather shakily—on the snowy pavement in front of the house.

“Welcome, I’m glad you’ve made it safely. I’ve gone to the liberty of opening Dominic House in anticipation of your arrival,” he announced. “I have taken lodgings nearer the palace, but I expect I shall frequently be with you.”

“Lord Dominic.” Lady Dominic greeted her brother-in-law with airy kisses to his whiskery cheeks. “You remember Annette, I presume?”

“I do. You are a vision, my dear.” The baron’s eyes found Annette and appraised her. She felt like an exhibit at a museum, but she submitted without complaint even if she squirmed a bit under the scrutiny. Baron Dominic shared her father’s reddish hair, streaked through with distinguished bands of silver. His face was all broad, flat planes just as her father’s was, and his eyes the same flinty grey-green. But where her father’s face had once creased with laughter, and where a song had once danced in his eyes, the Baron was made of sterner stuff. He reminded her of a high, proud cliff, weathered and unbending. She gave a shiver. This was not a man to be swayed by romance or sentimentality. He would marry her off to the highest bidder, her preferences be damned, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.

But what choice did she have? Her father was here, somewhere, in this very city. She would have never received permission to come if she hadn’t agreed to promenade for suitors. This was her only real chance of reuniting her family.

“Come along inside and refresh yourselves beside the fire,” Baron Dominic said, and taking her mother’s arm, he led them inside. Annette took a deep breath before following along with her mother’s lady’s maid. She only hoped she wouldn’t be swept into matrimony before she’d achieved her purpose.

* * *

She discovered the next morning that the master of Galatea House had returned for the season as well, bringing with him his Countess and their only daughter, Ingrid. Not only that, but Annette’s close personal friend Mercedes was scheduled to arrive with her family later that afternoon. Mercedes was the eldest daughter of Baron Martritz, a noble and an ambassador from the Andrestrian Empire. She had always intended to enter the church, but Annette supposed Baron Martritz was hoping this one last season might entice her to change her mind. After all, the rumor around town was that Duke Fraldarius was bringing his extremely eligible son to town, and that would go a long way toward strengthening ties between the neighboring nations.

“I hope she can lodge somewhere close,” Annette said to her mother over breakfast.

“I’m certain Baron Martritz won’t want his daughter to be too far from the action. Now, the debutants shall be presented at the palace today, and then there’s to be a ball in the evening. We must make haste and dress; your uncle shall be arriving to escort us to the events soon,” Lady Dominic said. She set down the society papers and motioned for their table to be cleared, though Annette had hardly finished her meal. “The scandal sheets are already hinting at a particularly salacious season. Though I suppose they must say that in order to drum up interest.”

Scandal sheets didn’t interest Annette much, but interested or not, she knew they would play a role in the season. She’d just have to be on her best behavior. That didn’t seem too difficult: after all, she was far more interested in reconciling with her father than ending up in a compromising position with some stranger. If she was mentioned at all, it would probably only be a reference to her admittedly clumsy dancing. She had no doubt she’d be completely ignored otherwise.

* * *

In the normal course of events, Faerghus’ noble debutantes would have been presented to the queen, but Faerghus had no queen. It had no princess. In fact, there was no senior lady at court of royal blood, so it was His Highness, The Crown Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd that the young ladies curtsied before. Annette’s debut had been in Dominic territory, not in the capital, so she hadn’t had to run this particular gauntlet, but Dimitri looked kind. He was unerringly polite, gallant and handsome, which of course made him everything a prince should be when one also considered his military prowess, education and wealth. And as every ambitious mother was aware, he was unmarried. He might have been betrothed to the Imperial princess, Edelgard von Hresvelg, but his father had married her late mother and thus they were step-siblings. There was still a chance he could be betrothed to a royal princess from Almyra, or from even further abroad, but King Lambert seemed content enough to leave the choice to Dimitri—and that meant every unattached young lady in the Kingdom had a chance at becoming part of the royal family. And with that title would come an even loftier role, because as soon as she was married, Dimitri’s bride would become the highest ranking woman in the Kingdom, and society would be hers to dictate.

Lady Dominic’s fan fluttered as another young girl dipped into a curtsy before the prince. “His Highness has been trained well. He hasn’t yet shown the smallest glimmer of a preference. But I’m sure his father is eager for him to make a match.”

“He has plenty of women to choose from,” Annette remarked, glancing around at all the ladies in the room. “I’m glad I won’t have to compete for him.”

“Of course you will.” Lady Dominic’s gaze turned to her, flinty and cool. “If you have a chance to wed a prince, you must take it.”

“I don’t _want_ to marry a prince.” Annette’s nose scrunched up at just the thought of all the duties and rules being a crown princess would entail. Some women might think like the whole thing sounded like a fairytale, but she’d prefer to avoid the trouble.

“Darling, it would be your duty to your family—and to Faerghus—to marry the prince. And in this family, we do our duty.”

Mentally, Annette stamped her foot and fumed a little. She had a few choice things to say about the absurd lengths _this family_ went in the name of duty. Yet somehow she managed to keep her composure (apart from an almost inaudible sigh of frustration), and soon enough the entire assembly was breaking up in preparation of the evening’s ball.

Dinner was taken with Baron Dominic at Dominic House, and shortly after dusk they returned to the palace in newer, slightly more elaborate gowns. Immediately, Annette’s gaze hunted for Mercedes in the crowd. One quick wave was enough to bring her friend over, and immediately they embraced.

“You look lovely!” Mercedes exclaimed as they pulled back. It was Mercedes that was the elegant one, looking refined in her creamy yellow frock with lace trim. Her exquisite complexion was complimented by the happy flush spreading across her cheeks as they greeted each other.

“Oh, Mercedes, everyone will be jealous of your dress!” Annette’s smile was starting to hurt her cheeks, but it was so good to be with her friend. “And every suitor here will be desperate to change your mind about the church.”

Mercedes giggled. “It would take a determined man indeed!”

Annette glanced down at her own gown, cream silk trimmed with sea-blue ribbon, and wondered if anyone would be fooled by her elegant clothing. She was notoriously clumsy and not as demure as some of the other young ladies present, and a frock could only go so far in helping her to fit in.

“Ah! There are the Gautiers. Oh my, I think Miklan is already very drunk,” Mercedes said, nodding across the ballroom to the readheaded group. Sure enough, Miklan was weaving slightly on his feet and his cheeks were flushed from overindulgence. His only response to the Margrave’s obvious displeasure was a cold smirk that barely curved his lips. Annette made a mental note to stay far away from the eldest Gautier.

But Sylvain seemed much more jovial—and for now at least, quite sober. His eyes were surveying the room and the view must have satisfied him, because he clapped his father on the back and headed straight into the fray. His first stop, she noticed, was the Galateas, and Ingrid looked but pleased and annoyed by his appearance.

“Let’s join them,” Mercedes suggested, and before Annette could answer, she found herself being tugged toward the group.

“Ah, excellent,” Sylvain Gautier said as they came to a stop beside Ingrid. “It’s not every day a man finds himself surrounded by such beauty.”

Ingrid was trying very hard to quell her exasperation and act like a dignified lady, but her eyes blazed a warning at her friend nevertheless. Annette stifled a giggle behind a cough.

“So it’s true that you are old acquaintances?” she asked them. Ingrid nodded, but Sylvain’s face lit up like a firework.

“Oh, we’re better than acquaintances. Ingrid has been a close friend from our earliest days. I’d marry her if I could promise she’d become the margravine, but alas I’m only a second son,” he explained with a flourish and a wink for Ingrid. Her face turned an alarming shade of red and she glanced around to see if her embarrassment had drawn many witnesses. Luckily most of their nearest neighbors were engaged in their own lively conversations.

“Sylvain, this isn’t appropriate,” she told him, pitching her voice low and pinning him with a halfhearted glare. He only grinned at her.

“Maybe not, but it’s true.”

“That’s so romantic,” Mercedes said with a wistful sigh, and Sylvain’s eyes snapped to her. His grin turned wolfish.

“Well, being unworthy of Ingrid’s hand does mean I remain free to form _other_ romantic engagements,” he suggested. Mercedes’ expression never changed, but the enamored gleam in her eyes was immediately replaced by a sort of detached amusement.

“Is that so? How lucky for some future acquaintance of yours, my lord.”

Annette expected that Sylvain might bristle a little at Mercedes’ subtle but firm dismissal. Instead he surprised her by laughing.

“I hope _they_ think so, anyway,” he replied. Ingrid opened her mouth to guide the conversation to more appropriate topics when a general shift in mood and the eruption of many whispers swept through the ballroom. They all turned just as Duke Fraldarius and his son were announced.

“Ah, excellent! Felix is finally here.” Sylvain clapped his hands together.

“Oh, I _hate_ being short!” Annette whispered testily to Mercedes as she tried to see the duke and his son through the crowd. Try as she might, she couldn’t get more than a glimpse of dark hair and fine clothes.

“Don’t worry, Annie. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to introduce yourself over the course of the evening,” Mercedes said soothingly.

“You ladies need an introduction? Allow me the honor,” Sylvain offered. Something about his expression hinted that he knew something they didn’t (of course he did, he knew the duke’s family and they didn’t, Annette reminded herself), but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Felix is a good friend of mine,” Sylvain explained as he led the women across the ballroom. “Ingrid was promised to his older brother, Glenn, but—”

Ingrid’s throat worked. “He died,” she managed, and Mercedes reached out and gave her arm a squeeze.

“How terrible,” she murmured, and Ingrid nodded and said no more.

The press of bodies around Duke Fraldarius and his son was crushing, and Annette was sure she was going to drown in taffeta and lace before they ever even managed to say hello, but Sylvain plunged right in and began pushing through the pack of mothers and their unwed women. He paused and offered a greeting here or a compliment there, but he kept moving relentlessly forward, and by keeping close, the ladies were able to follow him into the center of the crowd.

“Free at last. Though I could think of worse ways to go than dying surrounded by beautiful ladies,” he quipped, and Ingrid stepped on his foot. He winced but didn’t complain about her treatment of him. His gaze turned to Mercedes and Annette. “Just a warning...Felix can be a little...abrupt.”

“Just say rude,” Ingrid advised him. “Felix can be rude.”

“I was trying to be tactful,” Sylvain replied, pressing a hand to his chest in mock indignation. Ingrid ignored him.

“He’s also bored by romance. All he generally wants to talk about obtaining his commission and training for battle. But that might change if someone were to catch his eye.” Ingrid nudged them a step closer to the Fraldarius men. “Keep it straightforward and he shouldn’t be too beastly.” There was no time to absorb this advice. They had drawn too close to the Fraldarius men for more conversation.

“Felix!” Sylvain reached out and clasped his friend’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “I know you hate writing, but I thought I would be the exception.”

Felix scoffed as he returned Sylvain’s shake. “And I thought you might have taken the hint.” Sylvain ignored this jab apart from a rueful grin.

“Let me introduce you to some new friends of mine.” Their escort stepped back and indicated the ladies with a sweeping bow. “You know Ingrid, of course, but these delightful additions are Miss Mercedes von Martritz and Miss Annette Dominic.”

Felix turned to bow to them, and Annette was so busy staring that she nearly forgot to reply in kind. She couldn’t help it: his features were striking and his eyes...they burned into her and left her feeling warm all the way through. They almost glowed in the candlelight and reminded her of the amber jewelry her grandmother used to favor. Yet his eyes didn’t entirely distract her from noticing that his countenance was restless and bored. Privately she thought he didn’t look too eager to be making anyone’s acquaintance.

The moment stretched out and then all at once Annette’s cheeks blazed as she realized her reverie had delayed her salutations. She dipped into a curtsy a little too quickly and bobbled slightly on her way back to her full, if demure, height. She probably would have tipped right over if not for a sudden blur of motion and then the steadiness of a firm grip. Annette was startled to find that it was Felix Fraldarius’ hand that had reached out to save her, his long fingers closing around her the crook of her arm.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, staring down into her eyes. His bored detachment had been replaced but a sort of bemused interest that did nothing to improve Annette’s nerves. “You’re the baron’s daughter?”

“His niece, on the paternal side,” she explained. “My father is his younger brother, and a knight.”

“Ah, yes...I do remember meeting a Sir Dominic the last time I visited Dimitri.” Felix seemed to realize at that precise moment that he was still holding her arm and he dropped it quickly. “You weren’t here last year.”

“No. This is my first season in the capital. It’s so—well, it’s a lot grander than anything back at home! Everything is so beautiful. I feel a little out of place.”

Felix’s lips twitched. “That makes two of us.”

Sylvain was glancing back and forth between the pair, and Annette became aware that he wasn’t the only one watching their exchange. Even Felix’s father kept darting curious looks their way. Was it so surprising that they were talking? Annette’s father wasn’t of very high rank, she knew that, but she _was_ still a member of the nobility. And it wasn’t like she was trying to drag him to the altar.

Sylvain gave his friend a nudge, then turned and bowed over Mercedes’ hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Mercedes hid a smile behind her free hand. “Oh, I suppose,” she said, and he swept her onto the dance floor with a flourish. Felix watched them go, then cleared his throat—was he _blushing?_ He couldn’t quite meet her gaze, but he was very gallant when he bowed and asked, “Would you like to dance, Miss Dominic?”

“Oh-! Y-yes,” she replied, feeling her tongue trip thanks to a sudden bout of nerves. “I, uhm...I ought to warn you that I might step on your foot once or twice.”

A brief but genuine smile touched his lips. “I think my toes can withstand a little abuse.”

The world fell away as Felix positioned his hands on her, and she forgot all about her clumsiness as he swept her into the opening steps of the dance. He was _extremely_ good, his footwork surprisingly delicate since he was also strong enough to help Annette through any missteps without breaking his gait. His gaze was too intense to hold for long, and anyway he was tall enough that she had to tilt her head at an awkward angle to meet his eyes. But it seemed dangerous to look at his mouth, and silly to look at his neck, so she focused very hard on his chin. To distract herself from how beguiling she found his nearness and his warmth, she hummed along with the music until the moment swept her away.

It felt like magic—until she stepped on his toes.

He played it off and carried her though to the next phase of the choreography, but she was so flustered that she trod on him again.

“So you weren’t merely being humble when you gave me that warning,” he commented. He was keeping a straight face, but his eyes were glowing with amusement and Annette felt herself flush from her chest all the way to the tips of her ears.

“It’s not very good manners to tease, Lord Fraldarius,” she replied waspishly. Embarrassment always made her impatient, but it wasn’t polite to express her displeasure so publicly.

Her impertinence didn’t seem to ruffle Felix, however. It seemed to be quite the opposite: her obvious mortification and the accompanying temper seemed to intrigue him.

He said, with infuriating serenity, “Dukes’ sons don’t have to have good manners. It’s one of the few benefits.”

“That’s horrible. Everyone should have good manners.” Annette frowned up at him. “And there are probably lots of benefits to being a duke’s son! I mean, I bet you live in beautiful houses on large estates and have lots of servants and the best sweets—”

Felix’s nose scrunched. “I don’t like sweets.”

Annette tried not to gasp. She failed miserably. The very idea was horrifying. “But—”

“And the trappings of a dukedom all come with strings. I’m going to pull one or two of them to get commissioned and put some distance between myself and my father.”

“But you’re a _duke’s son._ Surely you can do better than a commission.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but I have no interest in the law and I’m tired of sycophants. I’ll take a sword and an honest opponent any day.”

“And your father will go along with this?”

“I didn’t plan on giving him much say in the matter,” he replied in clipped tones. Annette took that as a hint that it was time to drop the subject. The song was ending anyway, and Felix guided them to a stop and bowed to her.

“Well, my toes won’t thank you, but I appreciate the dance,” he said. Annette felt her cheeks heat for what felt like the hundredth time this evening.

“You’re nothing but a villain,” she replied with a huff. He shot her a bemused look before he pressed a kiss to her hand and strode away without another word. Annette felt the press of his lips even through her glove.

Did she like him or hate him? She wasn't really sure. But she doubted she’d spend much time with him over the course of the season. After all, next to the unwed prince, he was the best candidate for a husband to be had this year. He was going to be at the center of a feeding frenzy, and she would therefore be saved from his odd teasing and curiously intimate gaze. That was for the best; she didn’t have time for some rude, bored nobleman. Her father continued to elude her, and she only had a few months in the capital to search him out and convince him to come home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Dominic was smiling when her daughter’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
> 
> “I do think you’ll make a lovely duchess, darling,” she said, and took a prim sip of tea as Annette sputtered in disbelief. Honestly, the young could be so oblivious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention this in chapter 1, but I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/roseteawrites). I'd love to follow you there!
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 2 and feel free to make fun of poor twitterpated Felix. <3

In the next three days, Dominic House received a small flurry of callers. The butler brought each card and pronounced the names of viscounts’ sons and barons’ sons and even a marquis, though he was old enough to be Annette’s father. Lady Dominic’s painted fan seemed to be in continual motion, and Annette found herself fighting off a vague headache caused by maintaining a stream of droll small talk throughout the day. And then, on the fourth afternoon after the ball, Miklan Gautier called.

The Dominic women were mystified, and Miklan hardly seemed to know why he was there either. He had his brother’s red hair and light brown eyes, but dissatisfaction and vice had carved premature lines into his face. He had none of his younger brother’s breezy handsomeness, and was as amiable as a kicking donkey. He made no attempt at a polite introduction, sat down without being invited ans broke the teacup he’d been handed. The entire time this was happening, he stared at Annette with a vague sneer.

She’d never met someone she’d wanted to marry less. She had no doubt that the only reason he had come was because the margrave had insisted, and perhaps they had thought that the Dominics would be so desperate for advancement that Miklan’s poor behavior would be overlooked. She only hoped Baron Dominic wasn’t determined enough to marry her off that Miklan would become a serious candidate.

“How is your family?” she asked after several moments of disingenuous niceties. She was hoping to lighten the tension in the room, but the topic turned out to be a miscalculation on her part. Miklan’s lip curled with distaste and he glared at her.

“Desperate. Otherwise why send me to court a child? Have you even bled, girl?”

Annette’s shock and fury turned her cheeks crimson and flurries of supernatural wind began whipping through her hair. Lady Dominic rested her hand over her daughters tingling fingers before standing and staring down her nose at Miklan like he was a bug.

“I think we’ve had enough of your conversation, Lord Gautier. The butler shall see you out.”

“You’ll come sniffing after me soon enough, girl,” Miklan growled over his shoulder in Annette’s direction as he followed the butler to the door. “You won’t do better than a prospective margrave, no matter how many times that Fraldarius bastard dances with you.”

“Don’t call again,” Lady Dominic said. The room was heating along with her fury; wind was Annette’s element but her mother’s had always been fire.

The door shut behind him and Annette shuddered in disgust. “I hope no woman is ever desperate enough to accept his proposal,” she said.

“His father’s title protects him, but I think most of the  _ ton  _ is hoping he’ll go through with his threats and disinherit him in favor of the younger one.”

“Sylvain does seem much nicer. He plays at being a rake, but I think he’s just hoping to find someone kind.”

Lady Dominic sniffed. “ _ You  _ are kind, Annette. And if he becomes Margrave Gautier’s heir…”

“Miklan hasn’t been disinherited yet,” Annette reminded her mother, hoping to derail that train of thought quickly.

“No. And you  _ did  _ catch Felix Fraldarius’ attention. A duchy may be in your future, darling.”

They’d already had this conversation several times and each time, Annette found her patience with the topic straining a little bit more. “We’ll just have to see.”

Several hours later, they were just sitting down to tea when the butler returned with another calling card. Annette groaned, eyeing all the lovely pastries that had been brought up with their tea service which would now have to be ignored while they had a guest, and she was preparing herself to engage in yet another round of empty conversation when the butler announced Felix’s name.

He strode into the room like he was expecting to find it on fire, and his eyes immediately sought out and roamed over Annette.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry.

Lady Dominic waved his apology away in one elegant motion. “Not at all, my lord. Would you like some t—?”

“Are you alright, Miss Dominic?” he asked, his gaze still locked on Annette. He was so intent on her—and so furious—that for a moment she couldn’t seem to find her tongue.

“Yes, I’m—I’m fine.”

“I’d heard that Miklan Gautier had paid you call. He’s...he’s...well. I wanted to see for myself that he’d caused no harm.”

He crossed the room, but hesitated as he stopped next to the couch she was perched on. She stared up at him, taken aback by this show of protectiveness from a practical stranger. His hand flexed at his sides and he looked away, a scowl darkening his fine features.

“Miklan is unpredictable and violent. I know he has position, but—“

“He won’t be coming back,” she told him. “And I don’t care about his position.”

Relief seemed to take all the air out of Felix’s body at once, and he pulled in a deep, sharp breath before saying, “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Forgive my presumption, I’ll take my leave now.”

He bowed to them and disappeared, despite Annette calling out to repeat her mother’s request for him to join them for tea. Lady Dominic was smiling when her daughter’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I do think you’ll make a lovely duchess, darling,” she said, and took a prim sip of tea as Annette sputtered in disbelief. Honestly, the young could be so oblivious.

* * *

“The gossip sheets have been having a field day with you,” Mercedes whispered to her the next night. They were attending a ball thrown by the Galateas, and the prince was expected to arrive any moment. The whole garden was lit by dancing balls of light, and their magic made Annette itch to study the spellwork behind them. There had been precious little time for her grimoire already this season, and the lack of a magical outlet was making her feel restless.

“Why would they write about me?” she asked, and Mercedes smiled at her patiently.

“Because of the duke’s son. Somehow it got out that he rushed to your side after Miklan Gautier called. They’re saying he was driven by a fit of jealousy. That he can’t bear the idea of you choosing someone else.” The older woman let out a wistful sigh. “It’s all very romantic.”

“They’ve got it completely wrong. He did call after Miklan came, but only because he wanted to warn us that Miklan was a villain because he knows the Gautiers so much better than we do. He didn’t even stay for tea. And he isn’t jealous, Mercie. We’ve only spoken twice!”

“It still sounds romantic to me.” Mercedes’ smile was just a touch too innocent, and Annette had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being teased  _ again _ . There was entirely too much of that going on.

Ingrid drifted over before they could discuss Felix any further. She looked lovely in a mint frock, with ribbons braided into her hair that brought out her eyes. Her fingers fidgeted with her sash as her eyes roamed over the crowd.

“Hello, Ingrid. Are you looking forward to the evening? Your gardens are lovely,” Mercedes said. Ingrid’s eyes flicked from the guests to the scenery.

“Oh—thank you. My father was hoping to impress His Highness.” She paused. “Have you seen Sylvain? I’ve warned all the maids to stay away from him, but he can be persuasive and I don’t want anything to go wrong for my parents tonight.”

“No, we haven't seen any of the Gautiers yet,” Mercedes replied.

Ingrid’s eyes met Annette’s. “I heard Miklan was one of your suitors.”

“You did?” she asked, and the blonde nodded.

“At length. From Felix.” She winced a little. “Was he horrible?”

Annette hesitated, then nodded. “I think my mother almost lit him on fire.”

“I wish my father would follow her lead. He’s entertaining the offer of a rising noble that, as I understand it, has some pretty unsavory connections.” Ingrid’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I know he loves me. No other father would tolerate my oddities the way he has, no other father would allow his daughter to nurture dreams of knighthood the way he did. But he’s so desperate to marry me to a fortune that he’s refusing to hear any criticism.”

“Do you even want to marry?” Annette asked, trying to picture a lady knight. Ingrid would certainly make a beautifully formidable warrior, but there was no denying the fact that her dream was impossible.

Ingrid shrugged, frustrated and confused by her thoughts on the matter. “I have tried to picture it and I just can’t. Sylvain says men are intimidated by me, but he meant it as some sort of  _ compliment. _ It didn’t sound complimentary.”

“Sylvain will be rich,” Annette said as soon as it occurred to her. “And you’re already so close, why not marry him?”

Ingrid flushed and turned her face away from them. “We—he—it’s never—”

“We understand,” Mercedes assured her, reaching out to give her arm a gentle squeeze. Annette wasn’t sure she did understand, but she let the subject drop because at that moment, Prince Dimitri arrived.

Though he’d been born the heir to the crown of Faerghus and had been brought up at the center of court, Dimitri always seemed vaguely embarrassed by the attention he commanded every time he attended an event. He was smiling and polite but there was a sort of bemused awkwardness to his movements. Every woman Annette had ever spoken with seemed to think this was utterly charming, but it made Annette want to bundle him off to a private place where he could relax a bit.

Beside her, Ingrid took a breath and squared her shoulders. Then she set off through the crowd to greet the prince. Mercedes and Annette watched her go.

“It must be hard, loving someone that is so oblivious to it,” Mercedes said with sympathy.

“You think she’s in love with Sylvain?” Annette tried to picture it. “They seem so different.”

“I think that would keep their relationship more interesting, don’t you? And someone needs to temper Sylvain’s wildness. Ingrid would be perfect for the job.” Mercedes sighed. “Unfortunately he seems too wrapped up in his own dissatisfaction to see what’s right in front of him.”

There was another flurry of activity as more guests arrived. Margrave Edmund and his family had followed in Dimitri’s wake. His daughter Marianne looked particularly uncomfortable. They were followed by Count Ordelia and his brood of children, and Count Gloucester and his son Lorenz swooped in behind them. These were the noble families from the southeastern parts of the Kingdom, and Annette had never met any of them. But Mercedes pointed out each guest, drawing on the knowledge she’d gathered as an ambassador’s daughter, and they both giggled as Lorenz made his way through the crowd like a purple-haired flamingo.

“Come on,” Mercedes said. “Let’s fetch some lemonade and make our rounds.”

They wandered around the edge of the dance floor, stopping to introduce themselves to Count Ordelia’s daughter Lysithea. It was the girl’s first season and she already looked impatient with it, but Annette was able to have a quick yet interesting conversation about the utilization of elemental magic versus black magic before Mercedes tugged her along to meet Marianne Edmund. While they spoke with the timid young woman, Count Gloucester’s son appeared with a fresh glass of lemonade for her.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m not at all ready for courtship or anything like it,” Marianne told the newcomer with an uncomfortable grimace. “Please, I don’t want to waste any of your time.”

“Nonsense! You must marry, it is your duty as a noble. It is my duty as well. Please, allow me to spend a few more moments in your enchanting company.”

“Hello my lord,” Mercedes said with a smile, no doubt hoping to ease some of Marianne’s discomfort. “We are new acquaintances of Miss Edmund’s.”

“How delightful. I am Lorenz Helman Gloucester, heir to House Gloucester. My father is the count of the same. May I ask your names?”

“Oh, I’m Mercedes von Matritz, and this is Annette Dominic.”

“Von Martritz? You are the ambassador’s daughter? How wonderful to meet you!”

They were then subjected to the formidable list of Lorenz’s credentials, and his plans for the governing of the eastern half of the kingdom,  _ and _ the history of his family’s connection to the crown. After an eternity, they were rescued by Sylvain and fresh glasses of lemonade. Annette had escaped much of Lorenz’s attention since her father was a mere knight, but Mercedes was grateful to be released from the brunt of the man’s inane conversation.

“Thank you, you saved us,” Annette whispered to Sylvain.

His answering grin was sly. “My pleasure. If I ask Mercedes for a dance, do you think you could slip away without my help?”

“I can,” Annette replied, and while Sylvain bowed over Mercedes’ hand with exaggerated gallantry, she twirled away and disappeared around a small crowd. Too late, she realized that the crowd had gathered around the prince, and she nearly spun right into him.

“Miss Dominic, are you alright? Did I hurt you?” he asked, holding out his arm so that she could catch and steady herself before she fell over. It was terribly kind of him to ask, since she’d been the one that had tripped into him.

“Oh! Your Highness!” Annette dipped into a curtsy. “Thank you for catching me.”

Dimitri smiled at her. “If I had let you fall to the floor, I imagine Felix would have challenged me to a duel, prince or not.”

Annette’s cheeks flared with heat. “Oh no, really. We’ve barely spoken.”

“And yet you’ve captured his attention all the same.”

Annette almost asked him how he knew before she realized that this was her best opportunity to find out where her father was this very moment. “Sir, can I ask you if—?”

“Annette?”

That voice was familiar. Painfully familiar. With a sudden burst of nerves that made her hands tremble, Annette turned toward the speaker. And then, for the first time in four years, she laid eyes on her father.

Grey had crept into his hair in those years, and the lines around his mouth had deepened into crevasses. He looked careworn, but his eyes were wide and alert with shock as he stared at her, and his lips parted as if to speak though no words came out.

“Father!”

Gustave fumbled for a second and then turned and sketched a hasty bow in Dimitri’s direction. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said, and disappeared through the crowd without even asking his daughter what she was doing here.

She’d finally found him after all this time, and he’d turned and run from her as fast as he could. Tears filled her eyes as Dimitri glanced back and forth between the direction Gustave had run off in and the look on her face.

“Excuse me, Sir,” she mumbled miserably to him, and then she stumbled away before she began crying in earnest.

* * *

She’d sought refuge in a hedge maze. It had seemed like a good idea at first. The sounds of the party had faded away as she had ventured deeper and deeper into the shadowy twists. Her misery had distracted her and her eyes had been blurry with tears, and those both contributed to the flaw in her plan: she had no idea how to get back out.

For the moment, it was a pleasant place to be lost. Flowers bloomed in the hedges, and there was a bench in one of the leafy alcoves so she could rest. She sank down onto it and put her face in her hands, wondering what in the world she was going to do next. She knew her father wasn’t especially interested in coming home, but she’d never thought that he’d almost literally run from her.

Softly, she began to sing an old lullaby, one that he and her mother used to sing whenever Annette felt scared or sick. The familiar tune soothed her tears and kept her company while she contemplated the various ways out of her little corner of the maze.

She was just beginning to get cold and to really worry about finding her way out of the labyrinth when a sound caused her to snap to attention. Her eyes flew toward the noise and she was startled to realize that it was Felix Fraldarius. He’d come to her rescue. Again.

“You’re not lost, are you?” he asked.

“No!” she replied, indignant. Then she let out a sigh and said, “yes,” in a defeated voice.

“I thought you might be when you didn’t come back out.”

“I would have found my way eventually. I just..wasn’t ready to come out yet.”

He bowed a little, looking just slightly too serious for her to believe he wasn’t teasing her (and  _ why  _ did everyone seem so keen on teasing her? It was intolerable). “Of course,” he agreed. “I can leave you, if you’d like.”

“Ugh—you’re horrible, Felix Fraldarius!” She covered her face with her hands. He seemed determined to make her feel foolish like the fiend he was. “You’d better go. If anyone finds us both in here, that would be it for me. My mother would never forgive me.”

Felix opened his mouth. Then closed it. Finally he nodded.

“I’ll send Ingrid,” he told her.

“Oh, not if she’s busy. I’ll be fine—“ She broke off at his sharp glance and amended her statements. “Thank you. That would be nice.” He turned to go and she bit her lip, wondering why she wanted him to stay. “Lord Fraldarius?”

Instantly he stopped and turned back to her. “You can call me Felix.”

No, she couldn’t. But she sidestepped that by asking, somewhat hesitantly, “Are you and your father close?”

Felix snorted. He glanced away, his glorious eyes narrowing to slits. “No,” he managed through what sounded like a very tight throat.

“Oh.” Annette felt her body sag a little more. “Alright. Thank you.”

He watched her. “Your father is a fool if he’s staying away. Family should mean more than connections. More than  _ duty.” _ He hissed the last word with such venom that Annette shivered. Then he seemed to remember himself. His mouth tightened a little and he turned away again.

“I’ll find Ingrid. Don't try to find your way out until she’s here.”

She rolled her eyes but agreed. A moment later, she was alone.

_ He’s a villain that likes to tease. He’s a duke’s son. You’re not here for that,  _ she reminded herself. She pinched the insides of her biceps and squeezed her eyes shut. She was not going to be distracted by Felix Fraldarius. She was  _ not. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wouldn’t trade our acquaintance for all the riches in Faerghus, Miss Dominic,” Sylvain said. “Watching you completely disarm Felix at every single opportunity is worth more than gold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Claude beyond reason and I'm not sorry.

It was difficult to find someone that had no desire to be found in a city as large as Fhirdiad, Annette was discovering. She and her mother explored, sometimes accompanied by Baron Dominic and sometimes without him, but wherever Gustave had tucked himself away, he was well hidden. Of course, the highest circles of society were closed to a knight’s daughter without specific invitations. Annette wasn’t always able to obtain those invitations, though she was building a solid friendship with Ingrid and she often took tea with Mercedes at the ambassador’s residence near the palace gates. Still, two weeks had dragged by without a hint of where her father might have disappeared off to. The prince hadn’t left, so Annette was fairly certain her father hadn’t left either, but no one seemed to know where he may have gone.

Felix’s absence was also annoying, an itch under her skin that made her feel slightly...lonely. Which was just silly. There was no reason for her to think about him at all.

Not that she was having much luck stopping herself.

“Cheer up, Annie,” Mercedes said. Annette plastered an unconvincing smile on her face and her friend reached over to squeeze her hand.

“I have good news,” she added. “My father is throwing a party in honor of his fifth year of service as the Empire’s ambassador. He’s invited King Lambert and Prince Dimitri. I bet your father will come too, to protect them.”

“What? Oh Mercie, that’s amazing! Do you think you could get a letter to my father if I wrote one?”

“Certainly, but wouldn’t you rather try to give it to him yourself?” Mercedes smiled at her. “You’re invited, of course.”

Annette threw her arms around her friend. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m grateful.”

“And there’s one more thing...the king is welcoming a new delegation from Almyra. Their old ambassador retired, and the new one has arrived with an entire entourage. There’s to be a formal reception this evening, and father has allowed me to invite you and your mother as my guests.”

“Ohh, that sounds so interesting! I’ve always wanted to know more about Almyra. It seems so mysterious, but I don’t suppose many Almyrans want to travel as far north as Dominic territory, especially in the snow.”

“So you’ll come?” Mercedes asked with glowing eyes.

“Of course!” Annette didn’t even try to refrain from bouncing in her seat, she was so excited.

“Well, that’s good news because I got you a new dress just for the occasion. Come on, let’s go try it on!”

* * *

The dress was a beautiful satin one with an embroidered bodice and fur trim. Lady Dominic found the family sapphires in her trunk and fastened them to Annette’s ears and around her neck. Her hair was braided and a band of sapphire and crystal was pinned into her coiffure. She felt nearly as beautiful as some of the highest ranking women at court, and she thanked both Mercedes and her mother with enthusiastic embraces. With the lightest touch of rouge applied to her cheeks, Annette was ready to represent House Dominic when meeting the newest foreign ambassador.

The palace was blazing with light and music as the Dominics entered. The Almyrans were made obvious by their gorgeous clothes, the colors bold and vibrant against the muted palette favored by the Kingdom guests. There must have been about forty individuals amongst the ambassador’s delegation, and they had spread throughout the room to chat with the Kingdom nobility. The ambassador himself, an older man with a long white beard that flowed over his emerald and gold brocade, stayed near the king, chatting amicably with Margrave Edmund and the young Duke Goneril. Her father was nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, the string quartet stopped playing and a blast of unfamiliar eastern music filled the great hall. All eyes turned toward the ceremonial double doors at the top of a short staircase, and they parted slowly to reveal a tall, handsome young man with tousled chestnut hair and green eyes that searched the room with ample curiosity whilst the herald announced him.

“His Imperial and Royal Highness Crown Prince Khalid,  _ Shahdazeh _ of the Almyran Empire,” the herald cried, and the prince descended the stairs and made his way to the dias to pay his respects to King Lambert. Whispers erupted through the room—had the crown prince of Almyra been expected? Was Almyra testing the Kingdom?

“Really, everyone is making such a fuss,” came a voice from Annette’s left. She turned to see a young woman in pink and black silk with long, long hair. She didn’t look at all impressed with the foreign visitor. “I just hope my brother cleared this little royal visit with His Majesty, or he’ll get an earful and then he’ll take his bad mood out on  _ me  _ for a week,” she added.

“Your brother?” Annette asked. The girl gestured to Duke Goneril.

“Holst is my older brother. He’s also way too strict and extremely nosy when it comes to his only sister. Lucky me.”

“Do you know him? The crown prince of Almyra?”

“We’ve met.” Hilda lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “My brother considered a match to ease tensions along the border, but the shah of Almyra doesn’t want to share family links with an enemy general that has to wipe out his scouting parties every couple of years, so the negotiations stalled. I’m still on the market. But I’ll never get married.”

“Never?”

“No. My heart already belongs to someone and it’s not possible for us to be together publically, so there aren’t any weddings in my future.”

“You don’t seem too sad about that,” Annette observed. Hilda flashed her an impish smile.

“Well, it shouldn’t be impossible for us to be together privately. But until the arrangements are made, we’re biding our time. I’ve decided to pretend I’m still interested in Prince Khalid to throw off suspicion.”

“I hope that works. It seems risky.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s too interested in marriage either. It should all work out perfectly.”

Annette decided she was going to have to take Hilda’s word for it. Meanwhile, she watched as Prince Dimitri joined his father and Prince Khalid—and still, there was no sign of her father.

The party dragged on. Annette danced a few times and spent the rest of the evening seeking out shadowy corners for any sign of Gustave. There was nothing. She must have truly spooked him. The thought filled her with a melancholy sort of frustration, and she felt the tingling in her fingers that meant her emotions were amplifying her magic. She checked one last balcony, as much to take a moment to calm down as to search for her father. When it proved to be empty apart from an amorous couple off in one corner, she sighed and stepped back into the great hall.

“You know,” said an amiable voice from her left side, “with the way you’re sneaking around tonight, it would be easy for someone to assume you had a secret.”

She jumped and turned, and to her shock the Almyran prince straightened up from the column he’d been leaning against. His grin was sharp, eyes eager, and he stepped forward and swept her hand up to his lips before she could react.

“Your Highness—you scared me!” She pulled her hand back as fast as she could without being completely rude but his lips twitched with amusement anyway.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He absolutely  _ had _ meant to startle her, she could see it in his eyes, but she didn’t say this out loud. When she didn’t comment, he continued, “So, what is it that has you skulking around the edges of the party? Is it a lover? An assasination attempt?”

“Wha—no! Nothing like that! It’s not even a secret. I’m just looking for someone and they don’t want to be found. I don’t even think they’re here tonight.”

“Ah. Well, that’s disappointing. I thought one of you Fódlani was being amusing for a change,” Prince Khalid replied. He lifted his hands and shook his head. “Then again, your people  _ have _ always seemed determined to stand on ceremony.”

Annette had no idea what to say to that. Prince Khalid smirked at her. He gestured to the spinning couples in the center of the room. “Shall we dance?”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” She wasn’t particularly in the mood, but knights’ daughters didn’t turn down offers to dance with a prince...even an unforgivably nosy one.

“You can call me Claude,” he told her as he led her to the floor. “It’s easier than ‘your highness’ and I find people on this side of the border seem to be more comfortable with Claude than Khalid.”

“I can’t do that. But thank you for offering.”

His green eyes laughed down at her as they began to waltz. “There you go standing on ceremony again. But have it your way. What’s your name?”

“I’m Annette Dominic.”

Prince Khalid nodded as though her family name meant something to him, though she doubted anyone in Almyra cared about a tiny group of farms in the coldest corner of Fódlan.

“And who is it you’re searching for, Miss Dominic?”

“That’s none of your business,” she replied in a prim voice that reminded her rather horrifyingly of her mother’s.

“So you do have a secret.” His smile was delighted. “I love secrets.”

“I can tell.”

“Well, if it was Felix Fraldarius, he  _ is  _ here. But he’s swinging a sword in an empty paddock near the stables.”

“How do you know tha—Of course I wasn’t looking for Lord Fraldarius!” Annette snapped, turning crimson. Prince Khalid threw his head back and laughed.

“Very convincing, Miss Dominic.”

“I wasn’t,” she repeated, sullen. It was true that it had been her father and not Felix that she’d been seeking out, but the prince would never believe her now. “Everyone seems to think Lord Fraldarius is interested in me—” her nose crinkled at the absurdity of the very thought—”but I wouldn’t have expected you to know about it.”

“Oh, I read about it in the scandal sheets.” Prince Khalid’s eyes sparkled at her look of shock. “Not just them, of course. I read all the official dispatches and the regular newspapers as well, but I wanted a...less polished report of the latest news of the court here.”

“Less truthful, you mean.”

Prince Khalid pursed his lips. “I’m sure most of it is utterly, cruelly fantastical, but underneath there are hints of the truth. And those hints weren’t likely to be recorded in the official dispatches.”

“I...suppose you’re right. But I still wasn’t looking for Lord Fraldarius.”

“Of course not,” Khalid replied with a laugh, just before he spun Annette into a twirl that had her bursting into giggles too. He might be nosy, but he had charm. It was an effective combination, and Annette had a feeling he’d be a king long remembered.

* * *

Faerghus high society had many rules, and one of them was that it was impossible for a mere knight to refuse the direct invitation of an ambassador baron. Annette was grateful for this rule, and for her friend’s ruthless capitalization of it, for Mercedes had no doubt insisted that Gustave be present and her father had seen to the rest. Knowing that she’d see him again in a few hours made Annette’s stomach churn, but she glared at herself in her vanity mirror.

“You can do this. You  _ will  _ make him talk to you.” She poked a finger at her reflection. “Use his sense of duty against him.”

The maid continued to fuss about her hair, unfazed by this behavior. She was used to Annette’s little pep talks. She finished dressing her charge. Annette submitted to this in silence, slightly more distracted than usual, and then joined her mother in the drawing room. And to her surprise, she found that her mother wasn’t alone.

“Ah, there you are dear! May I introduce you to Sir Ashe Ubert? He’s a knight from the Gaspard region.” Lady Dominic smiled warmly at the young man beside her.

Annette’s cheeks went slightly pink and her eyes flashed to the light-haired knight. He had a lovely frock coat and a kind smile, and he’d brought a bouquet for her as well. It still felt like an ambush, but there was genuine interest and kindness in his eyes. He gave her a bow.

“Miss Dominic—forgive me. I would have introduced myself at the Almyran reception last week, but I was on duty and couldn’t have the pleasure,” he said.

“Oh—you were guarding the king?”

“Yes. Sometimes I get assigned to Prince Dimitri as well.” Ashe’s smile was shy but proud. “It’s an honor to serve them.”

Annette smiled back at him. “Do you live at the palace, then?”

“There’s a barracks on the grounds,” he replied as they sat down on a loveseat. Annette’s mother busied herself with a book. “Most of us live there.”

“We’re a long way from Gaspard.”

“I know.” Ashe’s grimaced slightly in regret. “I was adopted by Lord Lonato. He and my brother Christophe rarely come to the capital. I have younger siblings too, but they are busy with lessons. I write often but it’s been too long since I’ve seen them.”

“I’m sorry. Being away from family is so hard,” Annette said with sympathy. Her mother shot her a warning glance but stayed silent.

Annette ignored this warning. Instead, she eagerly leaned forward, hoping Ashe could give her some inside information. “Do you know my father, Sir Ubert? He is Sir Gustave Dominic.”

Ashe’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I strive to follow in his footsteps! He is one of our most skilled and dedicated knights, and the king has made him a commander.” Then he flushed. “I hope you won’t mind that it’s partly my admiration for him that led me to call on you. And then I saw you at the reception and…”

“We’re very proud of Sir Dominic. Aren’t we, Annette?” Lady Dominic said, and this time the admonition in her voice was downright frosty.

“Very!” The word burst from her lips too brightly to be completely sincere, but Ashe didn’t seem to notice.

“Would you like a tour of the barracks, Miss Dominic? It’s not the most romantic sojourn, but perhaps you’d like to see where your father works?” he asked.

Annette felt a victorious grin stretching her lips. “I’d love to,” she told him, ignoring her mother’s sharp glare. Now she would know where to find Gustave even if he ran from her at the ball tonight.

Ashe promised to arrange the tour and then took his leave, giving Annette and her mother time to finish preparing for Baron Martritz’s party. By the time they set out, nothing could have soured Annette’s mood. Her triumph was close at hand, she could feel it.

* * *

“It was quite a crushing defeat, as I understand it.”

Duke Fraldarius, Baron Martritz, Prince Dimitri and Gustave Dominic were all clustered near the refreshments discussing the latest news from the Empire’s war on the island of Brigid. Annette had been trying to edge her way close enough to corner her father, but she frowned at the news.

“Brigid will capitulate soon,” Duke Fraldarius predicted.

“Do you think the Emperor will cast his eyes northward?” Gustave asked.

“No,” Dimitri said with a slow shake of his head. “He’s ailing. I believe the conquest of Brigid will be his last.”

“Princess Edelgard is fond of the prince. There’s no reason for her to want to start a war with the Kingdom even after her father passes,” Baron Martritz assured them. “The victory in Brigid will satisfy the Emperor.”

“I hope you’re right. My son is looking for a fight. I would hate for the Empire to give him one,” the duke said. Then he spotted Annette and his features lightened into a smile. “Ah, and here would be a compelling reason to stay. Hello, Miss Dominic.”

“Hello,” Annette chirped a little sheepishly. She hadn’t meant for it to look like she was eavesdropping, but it was too late to worry about that now. She curtsied to the prince, then to the other men. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was hoping Prince Dimitri would be able to spare my father for a few moments.”

Gustave’s shoulders stiffened but Dimitri’s smile was warm. “Of course I can. I can think of no one better to ensure you have a lovely time.”

“Except perhaps my son,” Duke Fraldarius said with an indulgent smile. Annette’s brow furrowed in confusion. The duke had to have noticed that Felix hated these sorts of gatherings. She barely knew him but she’d seen that right away.

She shrugged it off. This was a golden opportunity to get her father alone and she was going to take it. Gustave offered an arm with a stiff, formal smile that did nothing to dissuade her.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said, meaning it, and then she used every ounce of strength she had to haul her father away from the prince and into a quiet corner where they could talk.

“It’s been a long time, Father,” she said, lifting her eyes to his. His jaw was ridged and his eyes wary, as though he was afraid she might pull a knife or hex him. “Really, Father—I’m not here to hurt you. You don’t have to look so grim.”

He cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice creaked like an old tree in the wind. “Annette, before you begin, you should know that I have duties I  _ must  _ attend to and I cannot return to the estate until they have been completed.”

“You have duties to us, too. To Mother and I.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking for my father to return to the place he belongs!” she cried, a little louder than she’d meant to. “To come home with us and take charge of our territory. To be a family.”

“And before I can do that, I must ensure the safety of the prince. Until he takes the throne, I must remain at his side.” Gustave’s expression was unyielding, and he stared at some point above her head as though he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze. Annette felt her heart crack.

“That could be  _ years. _ ”

“It almost certainly will be,” he father agreed.

“What could possibly be more important than your family?”

Gustave sighed, his stony facade cracking in the face of Annette’s raw despair. “The king has tasked me with guarding the prince’s life. There are rumors that rebels in Duscur are trying to kill him. There’s already been one attempt, and a kidnapping plot was foiled just weeks ago. I will not abandon him until this threat has been crushed.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I failed both his mother and his step-mother. I cannot fail him. I know I have been a poor husband and father, but this is a debt I owe in blood.”

“And the king? What about his protection?”

Gustave shook his head. “He has tasked me with guarding the life of his son. Prince Dimitri is his only heir. If anything happens to him, the Kingdom will fall into chaos as soon as King Lambert dies. Protecting Dimitri is the king’s way of guarding against civil war. I cannot falter.”

A heavy silence settled over the pair. Annette’s emotions swirled through her like a storm, whipping past each other too quickly for her to make sense of. On the one hand, she understood how important his work was. On the other, she felt it was deeply unfair that he could run off to spend his life in debt to the crown without a backward glance at his own child.

“I’m not going to leave this city without you,” she said at last.

“Annette—“

“I have a few months. I  _ will _ find a way to bring you home without putting Prince Dimitri in danger. You can’t stop me.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t even try.”

He only shook his head. “You should enjoy your season. Your mother is managing just fine without me and you will too.”

“Nine weeks is an eternity. I’m sure I’ll have thought of something by then.” She forced herself to smile brightly. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll arrange everything.”

Then, before he could try and stop her, she strode away from him and back into the midst of the party. She didn’t know why a faction in Duscur might want to hurt the prince, but in the end that wasn’t as important as finding a new way to shield Dimitri from future threats.

She could do it. Maybe.

No, there couldn’t be any room for doubt. She  _ had  _ to do it. But she would need knowledge from the other noble families from the court, and she thought she’d better start with the connections she’d already been forming over the course of the season.

She found Ingrid first. The other woman was pacing just inside of the door that lead to the veranda, and she did not look happy at all. Two bright pink spots colored her cheeks and her brow was furrowed so hard that her forehead must have been starting to ache. Annette was able to walk right up to her without her taking notice.

“Are you alright, Miss Galatea?”

“Hm?” Ingrid’s head jerked up. “Oh, hello Miss Dominic. You can call me Ingrid. And I’m perfectly well--I’m just deciding how best to hobble Sylvain.”

Despite her own downcast mood, that startled a giggle out of Annette. “What has he done now?”

Ingrid waved a vague hand toward the gardens. “He’s out there somewhere with the daughter of an earl, no doubt telling her exactly what she wants to hear so he can do whatever it is rakes do.”

“Oh, Ingrid—”

“No, don’t feel bad for me. Pity the earl’s daughter. He won’t mean a word of what he tells her, but she’ll believe every bit of it.”

“Well, I do need to talk to you both. We can go find him together and save the earl’s daughter.”

Ingrid hesitated, then nodded and the pair made their way out onto the terrace and down into the gardens. It felt slightly ridiculous to hunt Sylvain through the hedges and around dark corners, but they eventually did find him. He was sitting on a stone bench near a rotunda with columns that were covered in climbing flowers. There was a sullen cast to his expression as he stared out into the night, untouched by the beauty of his surroundings.

“Oh, you’re alone,” Annette blurted before she realized that it might not be the most tactful thing to say. His head jerked up and over in their direction. When he recognized them, a weak smile touched his lips.

“The old song and dance is getting a bit stale,” he said. “I know what these girls want and it isn’t me. That didn’t used to bother me so much, but…”

Ingrid’s expression was hard to read, but Annette was fairly sure she was feeling at least a little relief. All she said was, “Good, I would hate to have to help Felix make arrangements for your funeral after some stupid duel.”

He grinned at her. “Are you saying you’d miss me?”

“Like the pox,” she snapped, but there was a hint of a smile about her lips as well.

“I was hoping to ask you two some questions. You grew up with Prince Dimitri, didn’t you?”

“Felix and I especially,” Sylvain nodded. “We had all of the same tutors and spent a lot of time here in the capital. Ingrid’s family would join us all every year though.”

“My father told me there were plots against him originating in Duscur. What do you know about those?”

Ingrid and Sylvain shared an indecipherable look. Ingrid’s expression turned stormy, but Sylvain looked more thoughtful.

“They are enemies to the Crown and if any of those criminals are caught on this side of the border, King Lambert should deal with them quickly and decisively,” she said in a firm, cold voice that surprised Annette a little in its intensity.

“I hate to disagree with such a lovely lady,” Sylvain said with a wink in Ingrid’s direction which did nothing to lighten the mood, “but I’ve never been convinced that this Duscan faction has been working alone. They could hold Prince Dimitri hostage for terms from the king, but the death threats make less sense. I still think a Kingdom noble--or several--could have something to do with it.”

“They killed Dimitri’s mother!” Ingrid cried.

“His  _ step _ -mother. And no one saw the attack, or the body afterward. She just disappeared into Duscur and never came back.”

“So it could have been some sort of conspiracy…” Annette chewed on her lower lip, a habit her mother would have scolded her for had she been present. “His stepmother was Princess Edelgard’s birth mother, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Ingrid said. “The Emperor divorced her but she had huge estates on the far western border. And King Lambert supposedly fell head over heels in love with her.”

“It’s been a few years and there’s been nothing, so she was declared dead not long ago. But I’m not so sure. And she might not have loved King Lambert--or Dimitri--as much as he loved her,” Sylvain mused.

“So she may be alive, and she might be behind the attempts on Prince Dimitri’s life and his kidnapping?”

“Or it could actually be a faction from Duscur working alone, hoping to destabilize our government and take advantage of the chaos that follows,” Ingrid argued, glaring at Sylvain.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter which one it is, so long as Prince Dimitri is well protected. My father won’t come home until he can be sure the prince is safe.” She tried to ignore the part where Gustave had insisted he wouldn’t return until Dimitri was safely crowned king. King Lambert was young and healthy, and it could be decades before the crown was passed on to his son if that was the criteria. It hurt even to think about.

“I’m not sure what else could be done,” Ingrid said to Annette in a tone of gentle regret. “A detail of elite knights seems to be the best way to protect him from attacks, and the best knight we have is your father.”

“There must be something I can do,” Annette replied knowing she sounded petulant but unable to stop it.

“We’ll think about it. Won’t we, Ingrid? Between the three of us, we ought to be able to come up with something,” Sylvain said, laying a soothing hand on Annette’s arm. “Gustave might be our best knight, but there’s no shortage of people willing to lay their lives down for the royal family.”

“Sylvain, if your father sends me to break up one of your liaisons  _ one more time! _ ” came a stern voice, effectively interrupting them. They all turned to see Felix round the hedges, his countenance stormy, and Annette bit down on a giggle as the anger on his face was replaced by astonishment at the sight of their little grouping.

“Huh. I suppose my services weren’t needed after all,” he said at last. His eyes caught on Annette’s before he jerked his head away and glared down at the stony gravel beneath his feet.

“Felix, Felix...do you doubt my powers of persuasion? I could have lured both these lovely ladies out here for a more novel sort of entertainment,” Sylvain chided him. Felix snorted but didn’t look up from the path.

“Ingrid would run you through with your own sword rather than allow you to take liberties,” he replied with utter confidence. This time there was no quelling her laughter; the redhead’s expression of wounded indignance was too much, especially when paired with Ingrid’s smug nod.

“You have good timing,” Ingrid said to Felix. “We ought to be getting back. The party will be over soon.”

“Oh! And I should say goodnight to Mercedes. I haven’t been a very good friend. I hardly spent any time with her and this is her father’s party.”

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” Sylvain said.

“I better stop by a patisserie soon just in case,” she replied, and fell into step along the garden path as they headed back to Baron Matritz’s main house. Ingrid and Sylvain kept bantering as they walked, and Annette was glad for it because she was suddenly feeling shy. Felix had taken the spot beside her and he was silent, so the other voices were a comfort.

She peeked up at him, found him glancing at her, and turned her face away, confused by the heat in her cheeks and the sudden increase in her heart rate.

“Are you alright, Miss Dominic?” he asked, entirely reasonably. But Annette wasn’t feeling reasonable. Her worry about her father, paired with her confused reaction to Felix’s nearness, made her want to shout.

“Perfectly fine,” she managed. He blinked in surprise at her growled response but seemed to decide that this vehemence was to be expected when it came to their interactions. For some reason, this irritated her further. Her steps were something more akin to stomps by the time they rejoined the party, and she glared at Felix when he turned to take his leave of her. He looked completely mystified by her black temper as he gave her a short bow and glided away. Sylvain watched this exchange with a wicked grin.

“I wouldn’t trade our acquaintance for all the riches in Faerghus, Miss Dominic,” he said. “Watching you completely disarm Felix at every single opportunity is worth more than gold.”

Annette couldn’t think of a response to this, so she went to pass the rest of the evening with Mercedes instead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the new tag! There's a brief description of attempted sexual assault near the end of this chapter. It's quickly halted but I don't want to cause anyone any pain, so please read with your health in mind. If you'd like to skip it, please stop reading when you reach this line: "In her confusion, she wandered out into the garden..."

The next several days were consumed with preparing for yet another event at the palace, this one the anniversary of King Lambert’s ascension to the throne. Annette’s mother and the baron had both insisted that Annette needed a new gown, so she went to the _modiste_ and subjected herself to the selection of fabrics and ribbons required of such a visit. Magical wind, a sure sign of her impatience, stirred the ends of her hair, but her mother didn’t comment.

“The brocade, I think,” her mother said at last. Annette sighed, grateful that this chore was over...until her mother insisted that they needed new bonnets, shoes and stockings. Annette’s intentions of studying Duscur evaporated as her mother dragged her from shop to shop.

The bright spot in this was that Ashe Ubert had written to say that he could give her a tour of the barracks the following week. Not only would she know exactly where to find her father, it would give her a chance to see what defenses Prince Dimitri had at his disposal. She’d dashed off a note to the young knight to thank him and accept his invitation, and then it was time to dress for the evening.

The journey to the palace was chilly—this far north, even spring had a bite to it—but the great hall was glittering and two massive fires kept the guests warm. The king wore ceremonial clothes made of rich fabrics and a jeweled crown brought out for state occasions. Underneath the crown, his face was slightly drawn and grey, and Annette wondered if he was feeling alright. Then something else caught her attention.

Prince Dimitri was at his father’s side, also dressed in richly appointed ceremonial clothes...but he wasn’t alone. There was a tall, stone-faced man beside him, one of the biggest men Annette had ever seen, and though he was wearing Fodlani clothing, she could tell that he was from Duscur. His eyes swept the room over and over and he placed himself between Dimitri and every guest that came near him. Annette didn’t blame the other guests from shying back a bit. The man was as unmoving as a cliff and just as intimidating.

The murmurs about him weren’t kind, either. It was clear that very few of the nobility thought this man from Duscur could be trusted and none of them wanted him so close to the prince. Yet the pair seemed to be inseparable.

“I wonder who that is,” Mercedes whispered, sounding awed. Her arm was looped around Annette’s and they were close enough that the smaller woman felt her friend freeze at the sight of the prince’s vigilant new protector.

“I’m not sure, but he seems very dedicated to Prince Dimitri,” Annette replied. She turned to say that Sylvain might know more when she realized that Mercedes was still staring at him. Her head tilted as she observed her friend for a moment, and then realization struck.

“You think he’s handsome!” she said.

Mercedes colored instantly. “Annie!”

“You do, I can tell.” Annette giggled. “Oh, Mercie...I never would have guessed.”

“He _is_ handsome, but of course that doesn’t matter. We likely won’t even have a chance to meet him, much less form an acquaintance...why are you laughing?”

“It’s just that you’re usually so serene. But now you’re flushed and stammering and I’ve never seen you so taken with someone.”

Mercedes held her hand against her flaming cheek. “Don’t tease me, Annie. I was just surprised by his appearance, that’s all.”

“His _handsome_ appearance.” Annette couldn’t stop another giggle and Mercedes gave her arm a gentle pinch.

“It’s terrible of you to tease me.”

Annette leaned against her friend. “Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t tease you anymore. But I do need to find out more about him. I’m investigating ways to keep Prince Dimitri safe, and it seems like this mystery person is a new bodyguard of some sort?”

“ _There_ you are,” said Sylvain from behind the pair. “The party was looking to be rather dull without you—ah, you’re admiring Prince Dimitri’s new companion, are you?” He winked and Mercedes went pink again. “Dedue Molinaro. I don’t know much else about him, but he doesn’t seem to be tied to any of Duscur’s leading families. He’s quite a mystery.”

Beside him, Ingrid and Felix were holding extra drinks which they offered to Annette and Mercedes. The mulled cider sent warmth all the way down to Annette’s toes, and she hummed appreciatively. Felix flushed and glanced away.

“The prince won’t say much about him, but I get the impression that he’s here to stay,” he said. “Foolish move. He isn’t soothing anyone’s fears, he’s only making them question his own sanity.”

“Felix!” Annette admonished, shocked he’d speak of their prince this way. But her outburst only drew everyone’s attention to her.

“Ohh, _Felix_ is it? That’s awfully familiar.” Sylvain’s grin was utterly infuriating and when he winked at her, Annette wished she could stomp on his foot. It would have to wait; there was no way to make it look like an accident at the moment. “And you—I’m proud of you,” he said to Felix. “I had given up all hope of you ever learning any charm, but I’m glad to be wrong this time.”

“Stop. Talking,” Felix growled. His cheeks were flushed. So were the tips of his ears. Annette could sympathize. She was probably glowing pink from her hair all the way down to her toes, she was so embarrassed.

“I hadn’t realized you two had gotten so friendly,” Ingrid said, and Annette shot her a look of pure betrayal. The other woman made a halfhearted gesture with her hands as if to say, “ _well I hadn’t!”_

“Perhaps bringing a man from Duscur to court isn’t so foolish after all,” Mercedes said, and Annette nearly hugged her for bringing the conversation back to heel. “Given time, we’ll all grow used to him. He may soften us toward his homeland. I’d be interested in learning more from someone that had actually grown up there.”

“Familiarity can breed contempt,” Felix warned.

“But it’s also the only way alliances can be formed.” Mercedes’ firm serenity was hard to argue with. “It’s too easy to vilify people from Duscur when they are so far away. Mister Molinaro will remind us that our neighbors are just regular people.”

Felix snorted, clearly unconvinced, and Ingrid’s dark expression wasn’t encouraging either. But Sylvain was nodding along, and Annette gave Mercedes’ arm a supportive squeeze.

“Let’s go meet him.” Sylvain reached out and tugged on Ingrid’s puffy sleeve. Annette took Mercedes’ hand and Felix trailed behind as their group made their way to the prince and his new acquaintance. The pair of them had detached themselves from King Lambert and were conversing near the refreshments. Dedue was saying something in a deep, calm voice and Prince Dimitri was interrupting with interested exclamations here and there, gesturing to several dishes on the long table.

“Ah, my friends!” The prince waved them over when he caught sight of them. “Come and meet my companion. Dedue, these are the ones I was telling you about earlier.”

He introduced each of them, even Annette though she was his newest and lowliest acquaintance, as if they were his old friends. Mercedes had a faintly pink tinge but she smiled at Dedue when he bowed to her and told him she was very pleased to meet him. Annette could tell how much she meant it and she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

“As you’ve probably already heard, Dedue is from Duscur. He’s a brave and experienced fighter and has asked to be part of my personal security detail.” Dimitri smiled at the taller man. “I’ve asked my father to knight him.”

“That was hasty,” Felix said coolly. Ingrid had stiffened at the announcement too, and she jerked her eyes away when Dimitri glanced at her. For a woman hoping to be a knight, it was no doubt hard to hear that a foreign newcomer was already being granted the title. Sylvain didn’t have any patience with his friends, however; he shot them one disgusted look and then smiled at both Dedue and Prince Dimitri.

“I’m sure your welcome hasn’t been especially warm so far, but I’m glad to make your acquaintance.”

“I am too,” Annette added, trying hard not to notice the way Felix’s eyes turned to her as she spoke the words.

“You are kind,” Dedue said, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips that endeared him to Annette instantly. As big as he was, as stone-faced and mysterious, there was a touch of shyness to him that she could empathize with. “I have told His Highness that I do not seek advancement, I wish only to ensure his safety. He has insisted.”

Ingrid mouth tightened. She turned to Dimitri. “Please excuse me, Sir,” she said before dipping into a curtsy and moving away, losing herself in the crowd.

“I had better go after her,” Sylvain said. “She’ll be looking for something to hit, I may as well offer my services. Excuse me, Sir.”

Mercedes frowned after them, her look of concern matched by the one on Dimitri’s face. Beside her, Felix gave a sigh that caused his arm to brush against Annette’s sleeve, and even that contact sent a spark through her that distracted her for just a moment from Ingrid’s distress. When—and why—had he drawn so close?

“Perhaps we should just...enjoy the evening,” Prince Dimitri said, though he shot one more glance in the direction that Ingrid and Sylvain had disappeared in.

“Wonderful advice, You Highness,” Mercedes said. She turned to Dedue with a gentle smile. “Do you dance, Mister Molinaro?”

“I do,” he said, his expression softening as he offered her his hand. “And it would be an honor if you would partner with me.”

Annette watched them move away and hoped Mercedes knew what she was doing. The daughter of an Imperial baron would be expected to do better than a knight from Duscur. And there had been those iron-clad plans for joining the Church of Seiros to consider, too…

“Miss Dominic, please forgive me. I find I don’t much feel like dancing,” Dimitri said, cutting into her thoughts. “Perhaps Lord Fraldarius will be so kind as to escort you to the floor instead?”

“I will,” Felix said before she could protest, and he took her hand and swept her onto the dance floor without giving her a chance to escape. She glared up at him.

“You aren’t supposed to like dancing,” she accused. “Mercedes said that you never used to dance at these events.”

“I don’t like dancing,” he admitted.

“But you keep dancing with _me._ ”

For a moment, his expression flickered as though this mystified him as well. “Yes,” he agreed. He didn’t seem able to elaborate further. They moved in silence for a moment and then Annette sighed softly.

“Is Ingrid alright?”

“Sylvain will be able to distract her. And if he can’t, the food will.” Felix paused. “Do you sing, Miss Dominic?”

Annette started, completely caught off guard by this change of subject. Her eyes flew up to his, and he cleared his throat and glanced away. It certainly looked like he was embarrassed, but what could he be blushing about? And if the subject embarrassed him, why bring it up?

“I—s-sometimes, yes. When I—when I’m studying, or walking, or when I’m upset or—yes.” Oh, if only the floor would open up and swallow her whole! This was absolutely mortifying and because they were dancing she couldn’t get away.

“I heard you,” he admitted. “That night in the maze. You were singing.”

“A lullaby,” she said slowly as the memory came back to her. Thank goodness it was that and not one of her more...original compositions. She couldn’t even imagine singing a song about blowing up a library in his hearing. He seemed like exactly the sort of man that disapproved of such nonsense. Annette liked a certain amount of silliness in her life. Felix Fraldarius, she was sure, would find any sort of ridiculous behavior to be an affront to his person.

But even as she thought that, a small smile touched his lips—uncertain but real, she could see how it touched his eyes—and he nodded.

“Yes. It was...moving. I hadn’t heard a lullaby in a long time.” He shot her a look. “You must think I’m too much of a villain to appreciate lullabies.”

Well...yes, that’s exactly what she’d been thinking. She shook her head anyway, more vigorously when she remembered that he’d lost his at a young age. Perhaps his governess hadn’t known many. Or perhaps her attentions had been fixed on his older brother since he’d been the heir.

Perhaps calling him a villain had been a little...cruel. Of course, he could do his part by not _acting_ like a villain.

“I enjoyed it,” he said.

Annette wanted to say something, although she had no idea what, but the dance ended. Felix bowed to her and slipped away through the crowd, moving like smoke though limbs and glasses. She tried to follow but only succeeded in spilling several glasses of champagne. He liked her singing. He liked dancing with her. Was her mother right? Was _everyone_ right? Did he truly like her? And did _she_ like _him?_

Mercedes caught her before she could stumble into another guest. Her own smile was wide and dreamy, and before Annette could ask her if she’d seen what direction Felix had gone in she began happily recounting her dance with Dedue.

“Annie, I had such fun! Deduce is such an interesting man. He described the vast fields of wildflowers in his homelands and said he wished I could see them. I enjoyed our time so much. I hope he’ll ask me again.” Mercedes’ gaze dropped to the floor, though the shy smile didn’t leave her lips. “It was so lovely to hear him speak of his home.”

“Oh, Mercie—I’m happy for you! This sort of excitement is usually reserved for cakes,” she teased, and rubbed her arm where Mercedes gave her a gentle tap.

“I know it can be nothing more than a dream, but I hope to spend more time with him anyway,” the older woman admitted.

“You haven’t taken any vows yet, Mercedes. And I know you—you must think the Goddess has had a hand in bringing you and Dedue Molinaro together.”

Mercedes’ brow furrowed slightly as she thought this over. “I suppose I...I need time to think,” she said after a moment. “Please excuse me, Annie.”

She wandered away with clouded, troubled eyes. The crowd shifted around Annette as she tried to think of what to do next, pulled as she was in two different directions. Should she go after Mercedes and try to help her friend decide between desire and duty? Or should she keep chasing Felix Fraldarius and determine once and for all what was going on between them, if anything? And did she have time for any of this when she should be focusing on Gustave and ensuring Prince Dimitri’s safety?

In her confusion, she wandered out into the garden. After the super-heated air of the grand ballroom, the night was refreshing. Annette murmured softly and conjured a breeze to further cool her, but it barely stirred her skirts. She was too distracted to focus on the spell, simple as it was. Since her magic wasn’t going to be helpful, she wandered toward the fountain just in the center of the pavilion she was in.

She should have some sort of companion or escort, she knew. But the solitude was comforting. This whole season had been a confusing rush of new people and fancy parties. Her father continued to slip through her fingers any time she drew near, and her mother refused to talk about him. Their purpose here was to get Annette married, and not even the possibility of Gustave’s return could turn her attention from that goal.

The spray from the fountain settled on her cheeks and neck, and Annette breathed out a sigh of relief. She emptied her mind of Gustave, of Felix, even of Mercedes. Instead, her eyes slipped shut and focused on her breathing until her nerves started to settle.

And then a hand—large, hot and punishing—closed around her upper arm.

“There’s my smug little bride-to-be.” Miklan Gautier was too drunk to growl, but the maliciousness in his voice was obvious in spite of the slurring. A chill swept through Annette as her eyes shot open. By then, Miklan had both hands around her arms.

“You’re wasting your time on Fraldarius. A knight’s whelp isn’t fine enough for him, no matter how often he dances with you.”

“I should be getting back to the party—” Annette started, her eyes searching out the safety of the ballroom. It seemed impossibly far away. The length of the pavilion stretched between her and the open double doors like a deep canyon. Miklan might be drunk, but his grip was firm—she wouldn’t be able to slip out of it without…

...without magic.

Her heart thumped as she realized escape might still be possible. But she had to calm down, she had to focus, or her spell would only cause further chaos.

Miklan turned her toward him, yanking her against his chest as he sneered down at her. “Skinny little thing. Nothing to get excited about. But in the dark it won’t matter, will it?” His lips twisted in a cruel facsimile of a smile. “Get a baby in you and even you can’t talk your way out of a wedding.”

Her stomach roiled at the idea, and he took advantage of her shock by crushing his mouth against hers. Her body went completely stiff and, though she was completely aware that it was useless, her fists pounded against his chest.

 _Focus, Annette!_ she berated herself. When Miklan finally drew back, looking disgustingly self-satisfied, Annette forced herself to clear her mind and begin the ritual casting of a proper offensive spell.

Her hands glowed, the magic circle burst out into the night, blinding in its intensity, and Annette let out a burst of wind magic so powerful that it threw her body away from his and back into the fountain. Miklan was also blown backward; he crashed through a flower bed and landed hard. When he’d slid to a stop, he didn’t move again. There was blood on Annette’s dress and in the soil around Miklan’s body—not a frightening amount, but enough that Annette was certain he’d need a healer.

But first she had to get far, far away from this garden. No one could see her in this state, or with him. She’d be ruined, not just for being alone with a man but for attacking the margrave’s heir apparent. So, shivering with the cold in a dress ruined by blood and water, she scrambled out of the fountain and started toward a path that she hoped would conceal her until she figured out how she was to get to Dominic House without being seen.

It wasn’t to be. She’d barely gotten ten yards before Ingrid swept out into the garden, her eyes already searching for someone. She took one look at Miklan’s prone form before her lips settled into a grim, white line. Then she resumed her search and spotted Annette trying to escape.

“There you are! Are you alright? Is that blood?” she asked as she ran toward Annette.

“Not mine,” Annette managed. Ingrid reached for her and she collapsed into the other woman’s arms. “I—he—he _attacked_ me, I didn’t have a choice—Ingrid, please, you have to help me get away from here without anyone from the party figuring out what’s happened.”

“Come with me,” Ingrid said without hesitating for a moment. After draping a shawl around Annette’s shoulders, she drew the shaken woman further around the building, away from the glowing lights of the party. Miklan, motionless and bleeding, didn’t even merit a backward glance.

“Sylvain will murder him if Felix gives him half the chance,” she muttered under her voice. “If the two of them don’t manage, I shall do it myself.”

“Please, Ingrid...it’s not worth you getting into any trouble. He won’t come after me again. I’m sure he won’t,” Annette said. Ingrid’s frown deepened but she said nothing. Instead, she tucked Annette through a nondescript door and up the servants’ staircase to a wing of private suites in the palace. She quickly navigated them through identical corridors until they reached a set of beautiful rooms decorated with the Galatea arms.

“My gowns will be too long for you, but they’ll have to do. When you’re changed, I’ll ring for a servant and we’ll call for your carriage.” Ingrid held onto Annette until she was seated in a chair.

“You live here?” Annette asked. Ingrid shook her head.

“No. My father sometimes stays here when he comes to the city on business, and the family keeps extra clothes here if we’re made to stay for a few days. Usually we live in our townhouse when we’re here for any length of time. There are similar apartments for the Fraldarius and Gautier families, and several others.”

Annette nodded as she began stripping off her shoes and stockings. Ingrid helped her remove her dress, and she shivered in her wet shift as Ingrid chose something appropriate for her to escape the palace in. Together, the pair of them managed to get her changed in a few more moments and Ingrid made sure that a carriage was ordered for her trip home.

“Should I come with you? I’m not sure you should be alone.”

“That is so kind, but I’ll be fine. I promise.” Annette took Ingrid’s hand in both of hers. “I promise. I’ll go right to bed as soon as I get home. Tomorrow this will all be an unpleasant memory.”

“Something is going to have to be done about Miklan,” Ingrid warned her. Annette’s shoulders drooped.

“I know,” she admitted. This wasn’t going to just blow over: whatever consequences Miklan faced would be public knowledge soon enough...and she didn’t think it was possible for her name to be kept out of it. After all, there was no reason to think that Miklan wouldn’t retaliate by spreading word of her involvement in the incident, and then she’d really be in trouble. Ruin and scandal seemed inevitable, and there was nothing Annette could do but wait for the storm to hit. She only hoped she _could_ weather it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Felix and Ingrid will warm up to Dedue quickly. I only made them a so standoffish because of their early supports in the game.
> 
> If you'd like to chat on twitter, you can find me [here.](https://twitter.com/roseteawrites)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t possibly still care for her.” Duke Fraldarius peered at his son like he was completely indecipherable.
> 
> Felix turned his back on his father. “Disown me if you must, it seems to be in fashion this week,” he said. Then he made his way up the steps to the door and rang the bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to all of you. Updating this fic is one of my favorite parts of the week because I've had such kind encouragement! I really appreciate you!

The newspapers in the city tracked a very dramatic fall from grace over the next several days. Morning and evening editions speculated about the mystery surrounding Miklan’s attack, reported on his injuries and recovery, and then exploded when word of his disinheritance was announced. The reputable papers did their best to shield the exact identities of the persons involved. The less reputable papers did not.

And while the dailies followed Miklan’s fall from grace, the scandal sheets were full of Annette.

“I did not seduce him away from the party with the intent to attack him!” she snapped, slamming one such sheet down on her vanity. Her maid winced in sympathy but said nothing. None of the servants were to talk to her unless communication was absolutely necessary. Baron Dominic had decreed that she was not to set one foot outside of the house, and her mother only gave her looks of deep disappointment before trailing away to make arrangements for their return to the family estate. No one would marry her now, there was no longer any reason to stay in the capital. They would be leaving in a few days, and Annette was to spend that time isolated so she could reflect on her failure.

“This one thinks I attacked Miklan in order to make Sylvain the heir so I could marry him and become a margravine, and this one blames my ‘low birth and inferior bloodline’ for my ‘predilection for violence.’” Annette covered her face with her hands and swallowed down her frustrated tears. She missed her friends. She missed Mercedes. She…

She even missed Felix.

Outside, the sky was relentlessly bright as if mocking her sour mood. A brisk wind blew across streets that glittered under a light dusting of snow. In the morning light, the city looked fresh and welcoming. Annette made a frustrated noise before moving to throw open the window, hoping to air out some of the gloom in her apartments. On the way, she stumbled and stubbed her toe. She let out such an unladylike noise of frustration that her maid had to cover her mouth and bite back giggles. Annette’s shoulders relaxed a little; it probably had looked ridiculous.

“Thank you, Cora,” she said to the maid, trying to block out the pain of her throbbing toe. “Take the rest of the day for yourself.”

When her maid was gone, she dragged a chair over to the window and pulled out a grimoire to study from. The breeze did make her feel a little less miserable, and before long the distraction of the spellbook and the bright sunshine had restored a little of her natural cheer.

She heard a carriage pull up but dismissed it: a social exile like herself wouldn’t have any callers, and even if she did, her mother or the baron would soon send them on their way. But the very next moment, the sound of Duke Fraldarius’ voice caught her full attention.

“Felix! Get back in this carriage  _ this instant.” _

“Go home, old man.” Felix was on the pathway in front of the house, his inky hair shining in the sun.

“This is extremely inappropriate!” his father insisted, and Annette could see even from her window perch up on the first floor that his face was red with fury. “I was so relieved that you finally seemed interested in a woman that I was willing to overlook her lack of position, poor connections, even her pitiable fortune—but this is not to be borne. She acted with extreme impropriety and she has only herself to blame. Leave the foolish girl alone and get back into this carriage before I drag you back.”

Felix had half turned away from the handsome carriage, but he spun back toward his father during this angry speech. “Miss Dominic was attacked. You know what Miklan is. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. He went too far this time and forced her to defend herself. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, and I won’t act like it is. She needs the support of her friends right now, and I intend to offer mine.” His voice was calm, but there was an underlying harshness that told Annette just how seriously he meant the words.

“You can’t possibly still care for her.” Duke Fraldarius peered at his son like he was completely indecipherable.

He turned his back on his father. “Disown me if you must, it seems to be in fashion this week,” he said. Then he made his way up the steps to the door and rang the bell.

Annette’s heart was pounding as she retreated from the window. Felix had come, in spite of everything. In spite of his own father’s displeasure. She needed to get control of her breathing and splash some cold water on her flushed cheeks. She needed to smooth the wrinkles out of her clothes and—

—she tripped again, sprawling out inelegantly over the floor. At the same moment, her maid Cora returned.

“Oh, miss,” she said sympathetically. “Come on now. Even the baron won’t turn Lord Fraldarius away. Your mother sent me up to help. Let’s get you up and make you presentable.”

Annette’s hair was braided and pinned and a fresh gown was dropped over her head just as her mother summoned her to the drawing room. Cora came forward at the last second with a pot of rouge, but one look at Annette’s bright cheeks made it clear that the cosmetic wouldn't be necessary.

“Good luck, miss,” the girl said, and Annette squeezed her hand gratefully before turning to make her way to the drawing room. It took a lot of effort to remember to take small, careful steps when all she wanted to do was fly down the stairs, but she managed not to fall or trip or misstep even once. Then, with one last, deep breath, she strode into the drawing room to meet Felix.

Her mother and the baron were both present as well. The baron stood near the fireplace—it was still cold enough for a merry fire to be burning away, warming the room—and her mother was perched on one of the couches, overseeing the customary tea. Felix had been sitting on the couch across from her, but he rose to his feet when Annette walked in, and she saw his cravat move as he swallowed.

Was the air in the room thinner? There didn’t seem to be enough reaching her lungs.

“Hello,” she managed breathlessly.

“Miss Dominic,” he replied, bowing his head slightly. And there they stood, yards apart and staring, until Lady Dominic cleared her throat.

“Annette, come and have tea with our guest.”

“Of course, I—yes, tea would be lovely.” She floated over to the couches, then hesitated. Normally she’d sit with Felix but she was damaged goods now, so perhaps she had better sit with her mother?

Baron Dominic settled the matter by sitting on her mother’s couch, and Annette dropped down beside Felix.

“You’re kind to visit.” Lady Dominic gestured for Annette to pour the tea. “And we are gratified to have the chance to say our farewells before we leave the city.”

Felix’s eyes shot to Annette. “You’re leaving?”

Annette opened her mouth but found herself helpless to reply.

“The ladies have business back in our family domains,” Baron Dominic said smoothly. “It would no longer be prudent for them to stay.”

Tears swamped Annette’s eyes. She stared down at her hands, which were clenched around a napkin. It was her fault she had to leave Fhirdiad, and she wondered now if she’d ever see her father or Felix again. She’d have to marry, of course; one day when the scandal died down she’d be bundled off to the church to say her vows. But now she’d probably be forced to marry a lawyer or doctor from the nearest town. That wouldn’t have bothered her at all if it weren’t for—if her feelings hadn’t—

“That is...truly unfortunate,” Felix said, trying to match the baron’s cool civility. She could tell he had plenty more to say just by the careful tone of his voice. His transparency would have made her smile if she weren’t so miserable. He turned more fully toward her and she forced herself to look up from her hands and meet his gaze.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that the Gautiers have completely disowned Miklan. May they visit? Sylvain has been asking me for days when they can call,” he said to her in a softened voice.

“Oh, that’s up to my uncle—"

“We would be delighted to receive Margrave Gautier and his family,” Lady Dominic said. She looked stunned; Annette’s disgrace should have kept all respectable society far, far from their door, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect. “It would be...excessively kind of them to pay us a visit at such a time.”

“Ingrid would like to come as well.” Felix started to reach for her hands, but checked himself when he realized both the baron and Lady Dominic were watching him closely.

Annette’s eyes flooded with tears once more. “I would love to see her,” she admitted. It had been a lonely and dismal few days; the very thought of seeing her friends again was too much.

Felix shifted his weight as though he was uncomfortable but held her gaze. “You’re not alone, Annette,” he said softly. The use of her name, the quiet intimacy of his words, brought color flooding back into her cheeks. The tears spilled over and she covered her face with her hands.

Before he could say more there was a sudden burst of activity at the door. Baron Dominic and Lady Dominic exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of Felix’s visit and whatever this new disturbance was. Then a footman rushed in, clearly trying to keep his composure, and announced the arrival of Prince Dimitri.

Everyone rushed to their feet as the prince, accompanied by Dedue and Gustave, walked into the drawing room. Dimitri was smiling and gracious as he received their bows and curtsies, but as soon as he could he made a beeline for Annette.

“I have to commend your bravery, Miss Dominic. You kept your head in a dangerous situation. I am pleased you weren’t hurt,” he told her, and lifted her hand to his lips. “The royal court would be much the better if more of our courtiers were like you.”

Felix looked a little sour at Dimitri’s attentions, but he nodded his agreement. Baron Dominic’s expression turned thoughtful—Annette wished she knew what that meant, but she’d just have to wait and see.

“I have brought your father along, so he could see for himself that you were not harmed,” Dimitri continued, and Annette’s eyes turned to Gustave.

“Thank you—thank you very much, Your Highness.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I hope you weren’t worried, Father. There are a few bruises, but nothing worse.”

His brows were drawn low over troubled eyes. “You should not have been alone in the gardens in the first place.”

“Yes, if only her father had been there to see to her welfare, I’m sure this all could have been avoided,” Felix drawled. His darkened gaze offered Gustave no quarter. The knight turned to glare at him, but Felix was unruffled.

“Felix has always said exactly what’s on his mind. I find it refreshing, though my father would label him impertinent,” Dimitri said, trying to soothe away the rising tension between the two while also giving Felix a subtle warning to play nice.

“I was also most relieved to hear you were not injured,” Dedue said to Annette. “I had the pleasure of reassuring Miss Martritz that you are safe.”

“Oh, thank you Mister Molinaro! I wrote her a letter, but I know she was worried anyway.”

“Please, call me Dedue.” The warmth in his eyes made Annette think that Mercedes had chosen well for herself.

“This is...highly unusual. But we are very gratified by your visit, Your Highness. Will you join us for tea?” the baron asked, and Dimitri agreed. While the rest of the gathering sat and a second tea service was called for, Gustave took Annette’s arm and drew her out of the room.

“Your behavior has been unacceptable,” he told her. His tone was so stern and his expression so hard that Annette’s first instinct was to apologize and beg forgiveness. But Felix’s reminder just moments ago about how absent and inattentive her father had been quickly banished those feelings.

“I should not have left the party alone,” she agreed, “but I will not apologize for being attacked.”

Gustave didn’t hear a word. “If we can manage it, it’s clear that your mother and I must ensure that you’re married and settled as soon as possible.”

Annette took a deep breath. “If you’re worried about scandal, I think the fact that the prince has come to support me should—”

“Annette, you have damaged your social standing and betrayed the trust your mother and I have—”

“Mother and you? How could the two of you share anything, when you’ve been away for so long? Father, I want to us to be a family again, but it doesn’t seem right for you to take an interest now when you’ve shown no intention of coming home with—”

“Your mother and I will find a husband for you and you will be married. That is the end of it. I have clearly been too careless in overseeing this matter, but that will be corrected.”

He marched away from her and Annette bit her lip hard against yet another wave of tears. Though she hated to be mad at him, a wave of fury overtook her at her father’s treatment of her. He picked and chose when he wanted to play the role of patriarch to their family. As responsible and important as he was, Annette struggled to know that her father seemed to care more for Dimitri’s well-being than her own, or even that of her mother.

But being angry wouldn’t bring him home. She had to control her emotions. Only by being mature and rational would she be able to win him back. She took several deep breaths, smoothed out her dress and returned to the drawing room.

The seat next to Felix was still open, and she sank down onto the couch gratefully. His eyes studied her, asked silent questions, but when she gave a minute shake of the head he seemed to understand that now wasn’t the time.

“I won’t stay long, but I wanted to come and express how glad I was to hear that you were not hurt, and how impressed I was by your quick, decisive action,” Prince Dimitri said once they’d all finished a cup of tea and completed the usual ritual of polite conversation. Everyone rose as he did and the entire party saw him to the door. He gave Annette’s hand once last, supportive squeeze.

“I do hope I’ll see you at the picnic next week,” he said, and she beamed up at him. How could her parents send her away when the prince himself had invited her to society events? His own smiled widened before he turned, repeated the invitation to her mother, exchanged a handshake with the baron and then departed.

“I should go, too,” Felix said. “I look forward to seeing you at the picnic, Annette.”

“I’ll look for you,” she promised, and she gave him a full, genuine smile for perhaps the first time since they’d met. His eyes immediately warmed and his own lips curled. He left then, walking briskly back in the direction of Fraldarius House. She watched him for a moment before following her mother and uncle back to the drawing room.

“It seems we must revisit our scheme to send Annette home,” the baron said to Lady Dominic.

“Yes,” she agreed. “It doesn’t seem like her prospects have been very altered after all. It’s an amazing brush of luck.”

“Still, we had better settle the matter soon. Obviously the duke won’t entertain a marriage between them, no matter how obvious the Fraldarius boy makes his attentions. But that young knight—Ubert? He might be persuaded.”

Annette ignored them and returned to her room. Let them make their plans—she could plan too. Prince Dimitri had given her the gift of time, and she wasn’t going to waste it. The next time she got into a carriage and headed north for home, Gustave would be sitting across from her for the journey.

* * *

Over the next few days, more of Fhirdiad’s best society called on the Dominics to signal their support—or at least their acceptance of Prince Dimitri’s support—of Annette and her continued presence in the capital.

The Gautiers were first. While the margrave and his wife chatted with Baron Dominic, Sylvain drew Annette into a corner.

“Are you alright? Truly alright?” he asked her.

“I’m more worried about you. I’m sorry that I...I know he’s your brother.”

“He is no brother of mine,” Sylvain insisted. “I don’t know what twisted him into such a poor excuse of a man, but he hurt my friend and he would have ruined our territory. You did my father a favor by giving him a reason to act.”

“And now you’ll be the margrave.”

He snorted. “I’m not sure if I’ll be any better than Miklan would have been, but I’ll do my best.”

“Then your people are lucky, and you’ll be a very good margrave.”

He smiled though he still looked a little unconvinced. Then he lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Will you help me convince Ingrid that I’m not the last person she should consider marrying?”

Annette gave a happy gasp. “Of course! But I don’t think it will take much work.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” Sylvain replied with a laugh. “I think I’ll need all the help I can get.”

“I’ll do everything I can,” she said, and they shared a conspiratorial smile.

* * *

Prince Khalid didn’t come in person, but he sent along Almyran treats, a traditional garment worn by one of Almyra’s ancient tribes of warrior women, and a bejeweled statue of the god Vāyú. The letter he’d sent with the gifts, written in his own hand, explained that Vāyú was a wind deity that often chased away evil spirits or wicked men.

_ I celebrate your victory Miss Dominic, and I’m looking forward to meeting you again. Until then, be in good health,  _ he’d said in closing the letter, and Annette placed the statuette hear her bed in a place of honor. The gesture had touched her, and she thought maybe the prince was a little nicer than he first appeared.

The Galateas called as well, and eventually Mercedes was allowed to visit as well. The three women left Dominic House on Annette’s first excursion since the Miklan incident. Annette tipped her face up into the sunshine and breathed in the fresh, free air. Mercedes was leading them to the  _ modiste _ so all three of them could purchase new muslin dresses for the picnic. It was going to be held in the Gautier’s hothouse, and though it wasn’t an outright celebration of Sylvain’s new role as heir apparent, it would be hard for anyone to think of anything else.

“A new sprigged muslin trimmed in yellow, I think,” Mercedes said. “And some yellow ribbon.”

“That will be so pretty, Mercie,” Annette said. “I’m sure  _ someone _ will notice how lovely you look.”

“Annie!” Mercedes colored and ducked her head a little, trying to hide her smile. “But...I hope you’re right.”

“What about you, Ingrid? What will you wear to the picnic?”

The blonde woman pursed her lips. “A round gown, I think. With blue or green embroidery.”

“I bet Sylvain will like the blue. He seems to prefer that color.” Annette tried to sound casual but Ingrid shot her a suspicious look anyway.

“Why would I be worried about what color Sylvain likes?” she asked.

“No reason!” Annette chirped, and she pulled Mercedes into the  _ modiste _ before Ingrid could pelt her with any more questions. Ingrid let out a deep breath through her nose and followed them, and soon they were distracted by a myriad of lovely fashions straight from Derdriu. Ingrid quickly grew bored with the options, but Mercedes and Annette happily combed through dresses, ribbons, gloves and hats. Parasols were bundled neatly near the counter and lovely embroidered bags were lined on shelves. Mercedes wanted to look at them all, and Annette was so happy to be free that she didn’t mind taking the extra time to browse.

“I never thought of having a picnic during such cold weather, but think of how magical it will be to be surrounded by tropical fruit and flowering plants while snow falls outside,” Mercedes said.

“Being able to retreat into the cool of the house will be nice. I have a feeling the humidity won’t be comfortable for long,” Ingrid replied. “I hear it was Prince Khalid’s idea. He’s probably used to hotter climates.”

“But the deserts of Almyra are dry,” Annette pointed out. “I’m glad he’s coming though. He sent a beautiful gift and I’d like to thank him in person.”

“Careful,” Ingrid replied with a laugh. “Felix won’t appreciate competition.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Annette replied, though her voice cracked a little. Ingrid and Mercedes smiled at each other.

“Of course not,” they agreed. Before Annette could retaliate, however, Ashe Ubert entered the store and joined them with a bow and a smile.

“Hello, Sir Ubert! I’m sorry I had to miss your tour. You probably saw the papers…” Annette started, but Ashe waved her explanation away.

“Please, don’t apologize. I understand. I would be delighted to show you the palace barracks any time you’d like. But…” He leaned closer and lowered his voice, wincing sympathetically, “I have to warn you...I can’t seek your hand in marriage.”

“Oh!” Annette drew back a little in surprise. “Of course.”

“If it were up to just me...but I have to wed carefully. My siblings are counting on me. I wouldn’t have brought it up at all, except that I...I didn’t want you to expect…” Ashe’s cheeks were pink beneath his constellations of freckles.

“It’s alright, Sir Ubert. I understand. I hope we can still be friends? But I know that my reputation isn’t—”

“We might have to proceed with caution, but...I think we’ll manage,” he replied. “I had better be on my way but don’t forget about our tour. All of you are more than welcome.”

Annette watched him leave. She let out a heavy sigh at just the thought of telling her mother that her first pick of husband for her disgraced daughter had just eliminated himself as a possibility. Especially after Duke Fraldarius had told Baron Dominic in no uncertain terms that his son was not at liberty to marry a girl as reckless and irresponsible as she’d proven herself to be.

Her heart throbbed painfully whenever she thought of Felix proposing to a more suitable girl, but at least she hadn’t had her heart set on a match with Ashe Ubert. Or on marriage at all. It was true that her mother was not going to be pleased, and neither was Baron Dominic. Those facts didn’t bode well for her future freedom. Yet Ashe hadn’t completely forsworn their relationship, and it was clear she had powerful friends. There was still a chance she might be able to remain in Fhirdiad for the rest of the season.

Her friends drew in close.

“Are you alright, Annette?” Mercedes asked.

“I’m fine. I really am.” Annette made herself smile at the other women. “I just...need to get to work, that’s all. I might not have long to convince my father that he belongs with us.”

Ingrid’s brow knit and there was a dangerous spark in her eyes. “No one should have to convince their father of that.”

“I know.” Annette’s shoulders fell. “I just wish he did.”

* * *

The picnic was like no other Annette had ever attended. Citrus trees were hung with ribbons, and a forest of calceolarias, pansies and orchids provided lovely bands of color through the glass enclosure. Outside the hothouse snow was falling in delicate flakes, but inside it was as though spring was thriving all around them. Tables were strewn here and there amongst the vines and trees, each filled with a variety of snacks and light sandwiches. The Gautier greeted their guests and pressed glasses of sparkling wine or juice into their hands, and invited everyone to enjoy this stolen sliver of spring.

Dedue was the first to spot Mercedes and Annette as they joined the party, trailed by the barons and Lady Dominic. He bowed to them gravely, but there was a light in his eyes when he looked at Mercedes that made Annette smile.

“It is good to see you,” he said to them. “I have an invitation to extend. I have been granted the honor of being knighted by King Lambert next week. I would be very grateful if you would attend.”

Mercedes clapped her hands together in joy. “Dedue, that’s wonderful! I’d love to come. Wouldn’t you, Annette?

She agreed and two of them congratulated him and assured him they’d be at the ceremony. Then there was a double round of courtesies as both Prince Dimitri and Prince Khalid arrived. Sylvain was planted at his father’s right hand and looked as though he’d desperately love to escape into the ever-more-crowded room.

As the room filled, fans began to snap open and soon the warm air was being pushed around in gentle breezes. Annette breathed in the scent of the flowers and tried not to look for Felix. She avoided Gustave since he was still shooting glares at her every time their eyes met. Without Ingrid and Sylvain’s support, many of the noble families stayed away from her as though she was tainted. It stung, but she supposed it couldn’t be helped.

She watched as Prince Khalid swept a deep bow to Hilda. They took a turn through the greenhouse together, and he cheerfully pointed out which plants could be used as compounds in different poisons. Hilda laughed as though this was all very amusing, and her brother Hilda watched with the satisfaction of a man convinced that a match had been made. He must not know of Hilda’s secret love.

Soon the entire party was invited to settle down and eat. Annette stopped her restless searching and tried to focus on the lovely treats piled on the table before her. In addition to the meats, cheeses and tea sandwiches, there were  _ petits fours _ and  _ mille-feuille,  _ macarons and fruit tarts. Annette nibbled at the luncheon but ate the treats with gusto, hoping the sugar would distract her from her depressed social status.

She would ask Dedue about Duscur today, she decided. It was time to get back to work and stop letting herself fret over her diminished reputation—or Felix’s absence. She had come to rely on his straying presence and unwavering support a little too much. And even if he wasn’t the villain she’d thought he was, it wasn’t as though he could—his father hated her now. So if her feelings were changing, well...it was too late and she’d just have to live with that.

Somehow.

Once the food had been consumed, Margrave Gautier announced that the house would be opened and there would be some dancing. A few rounds of country songs would be played by Marianne Edmund, and the youngest of the party hurried inside to begin.

Sylvain asked Ingrid for the first two dances. She hesitated, obviously flustered by his change in status and the real possibility that he could begin to seriously court her. But she agreed in the end. Prince Khalid, usually content to dance with as many women as possible, continued to show his preference for Hilda and engaged her for the first two dances as well. Ashe asked Mercedes, though Dedue looked as though he wished he could have. Annette consigned herself to a bench along the wall of the Gautier’s ballroom and tried to think of a way to interrogate Dedue without being intolerably rude or interrupting any moments he might have to spent with Mercedes.

About halfway through the first set, the couch shifted as someone sat down beside her. A napkin full of treats was pressed into her hands, and she looked up to see Felix.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. My father made me late, and by the time I arrived I was forced to sit with the Ordelias. They wanted me to dance with their oldest girl, but I managed to slip away.”

It was the longest speech he’d ever made to her. Annette continued to stare at him, heart fluttering with emotion. He blinked at her, obviously unnerved by her silence, and then he gestured to the goody-filled napkin.

“I don’t like sweets, but you always seem to enjoy them so I saved you my share,” he informed her, trying to induce her to speak.

She very, very nearly threw her arms around him right there in the middle of the ballroom. Instead, she chomped down on her lower lip hard enough to bring tears to her eyes and managed a strangled thank you which didn’t seem at all adequate. This added to her growing sense of frustration, and all at once the emotions she had been struggling to keep in check burst out of her. “You’re horrible, Felix.”

This took him by complete surprise. “What did I do this time?” he demanded.

“You can’t keep being so kind to me! I—I know how your father feels about me, and I promised myself that this season would be about bringing my father home and that I wouldn’t get distracted by—but you keep dancing with me and bringing me sweets and—this can’t—“

“Annette.” He hesitated, then covered one of her hands with his own. “I don’t give a damn what my father—or anyone else—thinks.”

Her eyes, still watery with tears, lifted back to his face. He took a breath and continued.

“I just...want to spend time with you. If you don’t feel the same way, I’ll...I don’t know, I’ll go back to training all the time. But if you don’t mind then, please Annette...allow me to stay by your side?”

A wave of unfamiliar shyness created over her at his soft request and she had to drop her gaze before managing a nod. He seemed to relax a little, and they watched the dancing for several moments without speaking again. Annette was afraid to break the spell, and not talking seemed to come naturally to Felix. Still, this silence wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as some of their earlier ones had been, and Annette was grateful to have some time to compose herself once more.

“I...I was going to talk to Mister Molinaro about Duscur,” she said at last. “He and Prince Dimitri are alone for a moment.”

“May I—?” he started to ask.

“Yes!” she replied before he could finish, and they rewarded each other with nervous smiles. This truce was new and tentative but it felt nice, too. Together, they stood and made their way over to the prince and his companion.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness. And to you as well, Mister Molinaro,” Annette said, dropping into the customary curtsy. “You both look well.”

“Miss Dominic, I’m pleased to see you looking so well,” the prince said, and after the usual polite small talk, Annette was free to single out Dedue and begin asking him questions.

“Are there a lot of people in Duscur that dislike the Kingdom?” she asked after a few inquiries into the daily lives of the people in a normal village on his side of the border.

“There are a few. I believe most of the animosity stems from the loss of so much of our ancestral territory over the years. Some of my people believe that the Kingdom intends to swallow our country whole,” Dedue explained.

“Tell me, how do you fight in Duscur? How do your techniques differ from ours? And how long does it take to master them?” Felix asked, warming to the subject.

“Ah, Dedue, I forgot to warn you. Lord Fraldarius is going to interrogate you about all of your martial arts,” the prince said with a smile. “If you wouldn’t mind indulging him?”

“If we’re going to be sharing international secrets, it would be remiss of me not to participate,” said Prince Khalid, and the group turned to see him approaching from the dance floor where he’d left Hilda. He wore an easy smile and his body language was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp. He glanced at Prince Dimitri. “Your success in obtaining a knighthood for your new friend here has caused quite a stir if you'll permit me to say so, Your Highness.”

“Bored nobles always talk,” Dimitri replied. “This is for my country’s benefit. The court will come to understand in time.”

“You think you can force them to accept Mister Molinaro?” Khalid pressed. The two princes stared hard at each other.

“I think to lead by example. The people of Duscur are hardworking, brave and honest. The actions of a few don’t mitigate that.”

The corner of Khalid’s lips tipped up. “Relations with Almyra have been little better than hostile for years.”

“Almyra conducts frequent raids on our border towns.”

“Duscur was the site of the kidnapping and murder of your stepmother.”

Dimitri’s hands clenched into fists. “That’s—“

“Unproven?” Khalid’s smile disappeared. “Yes, there is an air of mystery still swirling around that event, isn’t there?”

Dimitri went pale. “What do you know?”

Again that humorless smile touched Khalid’s lips. “This sort of conversation isn’t well suited to a ballroom. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness? But we  _ do _ need to talk—soon.”

“We can use Dominic House. No one will expect two princes to come to our family residence without some sort of occasion. And there are only a few servants to care for my mother and I. It shouldn’t be difficult to send them away,” Annette said, surprising even herself. But she needed to know what was going on, and it seemed like Khalid had at least part of that information.

Felix shot a glare at her. “This isn’t something you should concern yourself with—“ he started, but the look she turned on him froze him in his tracks.

“Don’t say it. It isn’t too dangerous for me and I don’t need you to look after me!” she snapped. His eyes narrowed at her, turning into sharp chips of amber. Any hint of their earlier tenderness seemed to be forgotten as they glared at each other.

“ _ Someone _ has to look after you,” he replied in a low, tight voice. “This is none of our business.”

“None of  _ your _ business perhaps, but it very much concerns me and my family.” Annette turned from him and gave her full attention to the princes. “Let me know when, and I can make sure Dominic House is ready for you.”

There was a silence as all of the men stared at her. Dimitri shot Felix an uncomfortable glance before nodding. “Very well. Send word to Gustave when you’ve made the arrangements. I will reach out to Prince Khalid.”

“I’ll contact Dedue instead. My father won’t approve and he probably wouldn’t answer any letters.”

Before they could discuss the matter any further, a commotion on the edge of the dance floor drew the attention of the room. Sylvain had taken both of Ingrid’s hands in his own and had been saying something for her ears only, but he didn’t find her a welcome audience.

“I thought we were past these games,” she was saying, her face red with embarrassment and growing fury.

“I'm being perfectly serious, Ingrid—I really—“

“No!” Her shout drew even more attention, but she didn’t seem to care. Before Sylvain could respond, she wrenched her hands out of his grip. “No. Save it for a girl that will fall for it.”

Then she turned on her heel and fled, leaving him standing in the middle of a curious crowd with a look of such bewildered heartbreak on his face that Annette’s heart flip-flopped in sympathy.

“We should help him. But don’t worry, Your Highness. I know what to do,” she said. Then her eyes met Felix’s and together they went to comfort their stricken friend.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m—I’d just like to go home and not see Sylvain’s face for a little while.” Ingrid’s cheeks were still red. “I’m going to forget this night ever happened.”
> 
> “You truly don’t want Sylvain to...to court you?” Annette asked. “It seemed like you cared for him.”
> 
> “Of course I care for him. And I've watched him 'care for' other girls for years. I suppose it was only a matter of time before his attention turned to me.” She swiped away an angry tear that had escaped to her lashes. “Besides, even if he is being serious—which I can be forgiven for having my doubts about—he always hated feeling like women were only interested in him because of his family and wealth. If I accept him the moment he becomes the heir apparent, how am I any better than they are?”
> 
> “Is that what you’re worried about?” Annette nearly laughed, but Ingrid looked so distressed that she managed to tamp down on the urge. “Ingrid, the first thing he ever said to me was that he’d propose to you if he could.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to reach out and thank you for taking the time to read and support this fic. It helps me more than I can say. You're amazing!

Sylvain had been annoyingly fatalistic when Felix and Annette had tried to comfort him after Ingrid’s public rejection. He’d waved away Felix’s questions and Annette’s assurances that Ingrid cared for him deeply and when forced to speak, said only that: “Ingrid will never marry me and I don’t blame her. I should have seen this coming.”

Annette had never seen him in such a dark mood, though Felix obviously had: his countenance had an air of impatience that told her he’d dealt with this before. He was trying to be gentle, but that was never going to be his strong suit.

Ingrid had seemed to like Sylvain. Annette had seen for herself evidence of tenderness and affection. She’d been distressed when Sylvain had disappeared with an earl’s daughter, and she’d been the first one to check on his welfare after Miklan’s attack. If what Annette suspected was true, then their mutual happiness was one frank conversation away. But how could she facilitate that conversation?

She touched Felix’s arm. “I need to talk to Ingrid.”

He gave a brief nod. “I’ll distract Sylvain if I can. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

“Don’t be evil, Felix,” she replied, huffing a bit as she turned to leave. Moments later, she caught up with Ingrid in the grand foyer. The blonde woman was already wrapped in her coat and was only waiting for her carriage to arrive. Her parents stood a little way off, whispering to each other and sending worried glances toward their daughter. Annette greeted them but turned her focus to Ingrid as soon as she could.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m—I’d just like to go home and not see Sylvain’s face for a little while.” Ingrid’s cheeks were still red. “I’m going to forget this night ever happened.”

“You truly don’t want Sylvain to...to court you?” Annette asked. “It seemed like you cared for him.”

“Of course I care for him. And I've watched him  _ care for _ other girls for years. I suppose it was only a matter of time before his attention turned to me.” She swiped away an angry tear that had escaped to her lashes. “Besides, even if he is being serious—which I can be forgiven for having my doubts about—he always hated feeling like women were only interested in him because of his family and wealth. If I accept him the moment he becomes the heir apparent, how am I any better than they are?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Annette nearly laughed, but Ingrid looked so distressed that she managed to tamp down on the urge. “Ingrid, the first thing he ever said to me was that he’d propose to you if he could.”

“He didn’t mean it.”

“I think he did.” Annette took Ingrid’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You didn’t see him out there. He’s devastated. If you don’t want to marry him, that’s one thing—but if you  _ do _ , you’d make him the happiest man alive by going back and saying yes.”

Ingrid’s face hardened. “You don’t know him like I know him. He might look like a man in love—he always does. But in a few days or a couple of weeks, his attention will be caught by some other beautiful woman and it will be her breaking his heart while I sit back and wait to pick up the pieces.”

“Oh, no—Ingrid, I really don’t think—”

“The carriage has arrived.” Ingrid pulled her hand away. “I’m sure we’ll see each other soon, Annette. And please don’t worry. This is nothing new.”

Annette watched helplessly as the Galateas exited Gautier House and climbed into their waiting carriage. A flick of the wrist and a sharp word from the driver and they were gone, trotting off into the late afternoon sun.

It was a long time before Annette turned and rejoined the party. Caught as she was between Prince Khalid’s ominous hints, Sylvain’s devastation and her changing affections for Felix, she sincerely wished she could have made a similar escape.

* * *

Ingrid seemed to disappear into Galatea House as the scandal sheets covered, in detail, her rejection of Sylvain. None of the writers could possibly understand how such a smart young woman could let such a prodigiously suitable match slip through her fingers. Sylvain’s suppressed moods and trips to his club (supervised by Felix, he’d assured her of that in a note written the day before) had also made their way onto the page. Could his days of rakedom be over? Had heartbreak forever soured his countenance?

That wasn’t the only thing on Annette’s mind. Despite her confidence, it was proving to be more difficult than she’d anticipated to empty Dominic House. Her mother seemed reluctant to leave her in the care of the servants (which was completely ridiculous! Annette wasn’t  _ usually _ reckless or devious...in spite of recent events), and there didn’t seem to be any excuse to send the servants away either. Several days passed and her frustration increased as inspiration continued to elude her.

Spring was gathering momentum. Though snow still occasionally fell at night, it was melting off during the sunnier days. The dirty slush wasn’t as pretty as a blanket of fresh, white snow, but Annette welcomed the coming warmth. Soon flowers would begin poking up in gardens and all of Fhirdiad would be covered in jewel-colored blooms.

Of course that also meant that the season was nearly halfway over already.

Annette flipped irritably through her grimoire, hoping some magic practice would take the edge off of her frustration. She found an interesting update to a cutting gale spell that looked promising. She read through the spell and the accompanying notes, murmured the words to herself a few times, and then stood in the center of her room and took a deep, steadying breath.

When her focus had crystallized, she cast the spell. A magic circle appeared in front of her outstretched fingers, glowing with power. Almost simultaneously, wind whipped around her, gaining speed and intensity before coalescing into two massive blades that shot across the room. They sliced into the wall and ruined the paper, and her wardrobe tumbled over and crashed open, spilling her dresses all over the floor. A lamp cracked and was blown off of her nightstand table before it shattered into the carpet. The sight of those shards of glittering porcelain had Annette fighting down an enraged shriek. She managed to tamp down on the worst of it, but an embarrassingly high pitched squeal still made its way out. Then the door flew open and Cora rushed in, no doubt alerted to a problem by the wardrobe’s thunderous landing.

“Oh, miss! Are you alright? What happened?” she cried as she came further into the room. Lady Dominic arrived a second later. She took one look at the wreckage and then ordered Annette into her private parlor.

“Cora, I shall send the boy to assist you. Annette will also help, once I’ve had a word with her.”

The maid shot Annette a sympathetic glance before disappearing off to fetch a dustpan and broom.

* * *

Her mother’s blistering lecture on her recent conduct, including her culpability in Miklan’s attack and her insistence on studying magic despite it being a completely inappropriate pursuit for any lady of quality, hardened Annette’s resolve. She began searching the papers for any reason to empty Dominic House. The following morning, she found one.

“Ohh, look Mother! The Mittelfrank Opera Company is coming to town.” She showed her mother the article. “It’s Manuela Casagranda’s retirement tour. And Dorothea Arnault is debuting as a lead! She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Lady Dominic glanced over the article with interest. She’d been a longtime fan of Mittelfrank’s productions, but they rarely came so far north. This was exactly the opportunity Annette had been waiting for.

“Can we go, Mother? I’d like to see Miss Casagranda perform before she retires.”

Lady Dominic hesitated, but by the time they were breaking into their eggs benedict she’d given her consent. Now there were only the servants to distract and an illness to fake, and her plan would be perfect.

After a few bites of breakfast and a fortifying sip of heavily sweetened coffee, she said, “Perhaps we could give the servants a free evening that night. They haven’t had a moment to themselves since we got to town, and we’ll be out late.”

“That’s a generous thought.” Lady Dominic’s eyes lifted from her paper. “It’s a good plan. Since we will have no need of them, they shall have the night to themselves so long as they are prepared to return to their duties in the morning.”

Annette’s heart leapt with joy at the easy victory. “Thank you, Mother! I’m sure they’ll be very grateful to have some time to enjoy the city.”

“I suppose we had better ensure we packed a proper gown for the evening’s entertainment. Did you remember to bring your gloves? And I shall lend you your grandmother’s diamonds. And Annette—you will be on your best behavior. The prince’s kind approbation and approval of you has saved you from complete ruin, but people will still be watching you. You must comport yourself with dignity.”

“I promise,” Annette said solemnly.

For the rest of the day, her mood floated on air. She sang here and there, silly little songs of her own imagining, and made sure to write Dedue a letter to give him the date of their secret meeting. Things were looking up again, and she turned her face into the sunshine and let herself bask in the feeling.

* * *

Ashe Ubert returned with Dedue’s confirmation. He also asked if she might like to accompany him to the palace barracks for their long-postponed tour. She agreed and asked if Mercedes might join them, and together the three of them made their way to the palace in the Bertritz’s carriage. Soon Mercedes and her party would be able to travel more fashionably by barouche, but the weather was still a little too chilly for that.

“It is good to see you, Sir Ubert,” Mercedes said, smiling pleasantly. “Dedue tells me the whole Royal Guard will be there for his knighting ceremony. Are you excited for the festivities?”

“Very much so,” Ashe replied earnestly. “I’ve learned a lot from Dedue already. He’ll be an asset to the Guard and I know the prince is very fond of him.”

“I don’t know if I’ve met his equal,” Mercedes confessed quietly. “It’s gratifying to hear that he is finding a place here.”

Ashe and Mercedes continued on from Dedue’s merits to a shared love of terrifying novels. Mercedes warmed to this topic quickly, and both Annette and Ashe hung on her description of one that took place in an ancient, abandoned nunnery where a horrible murder had taken place. She had just gotten to the part where the heroine was on the point of some harrowing discovery when Annette realized how close they were to the palace.

Doubts set in at the sight of the imposing brick building. Her plans seemed like the schemes of a silly little girl, and suddenly she was afraid that nothing she could achieve would convince her father it was time to return home. And even if he came now...how much time would they have together? Her parents were keen to marry her off and then she’d go to her husband’s house. The whole endeavor was probably hopeless, and she was making a fool out of herself by trying so hard to fix what no one else seemed to think needed repair.

Mercedes reached over and placed a comforting hand on her arm, and Annette took a deep breath. Foolish or not, she would see this through until the end. Annette didn’t give up on people.

Ashe climbed down from the carriage and handed them both out. His smile was earnest and his eyes bright as he explained the history of the building and pointed out ancient marble lions that stood guard outside the gate. Then he led them directly through to the inner courtyard where several knights were training. Dedue was among his soon-to-be comrades in arms. He had taken up a tower shield and had taken on the aspect of an impenetrable wall. No matter how the younger knights and squires attacked him, he stood firm. With one huge sweep of an axe he thrust back two of his fellow trainees and moved forward through the attacking group. His strength was breathtaking, and Mercedes was a rapt audience for his feats. Annette giggled and Ashe grinned as she came back to herself with a furious blush.

“Shall we continue?” Ashe invited, sweeping and arm toward the interior. Both ladies followed him inside. The building was no-nonsense, well appointed without any frills. There was an air of good discipline and order, and the hallways gleamed. As they explored the building, they passed squires cleaning the rooms under the critical eye of a full-fledged knight. They passed the kitchens where knights and squires worked side by side to prepare the midday meal. There was a small chapel dedicated to the goddess and many, many rooms filled with utilitarian beds and nondescript trunks. No personal items were left out anywhere, but military equipment was everywhere: shields and swords decorated the walls, as did royal commendations. There were tapestries depicting old battles and each unique battalion had their own banner with their own unique lion banner. These banners were hung in the hallways and decorated the doors of the rooms that their members slept in.

Finally, they reached the upper floors. The commanders had their offices up here, and Sir Dominic had the largest of all. Behind double doors carved with great heraldic lions rampant, snarling at each other with claws bared, was a large desk on a blue carpet. Cabinets lined one side of the room, and an impressive breastplate was on a stand on the other. Huge windows overlooking the palace gardens took up the wall behind the desk. And sitting in the chair, commanding it all, was Gustave.

Annette’s confidence wavered once more. Here he was important, respected, his days full of grand duties. What did Dominic territory offer that could compare? There was only she and her mother living their quiet country life, a few farms that would need overseeing and a small village with its small concerns.

Gustave rose as they came into the room. His expression smoothed from grim concentration to a bland mask of welcome. There were no smiles for his daughter, no ease in the set of his shoulders.

“Has Sir Ubert been a knowledgeable escort?” he asked.

“Oh, very!” Mercedes smiled at Gustave, choosing to ignore his grave demeanor. “He explained all about King Loog and the history of the Blue Lions. He knows so much about the history of the Royal Guard, I think I learned something new almost every moment.”

“It’s true, we couldn’t have had a more informative teacher,” Annette agreed, and she warmed a little when Ashe straightened up with pride and smiled at the good report.

“I’m happy to see you in company together. Two such fine young people enjoying a deep and mutual regard is always a glad sight,” Gustave said to Annette and Ashe. Both stiffened a little at his clumsy implication.

“Oh, Father—”

“I agree with you, sir. And I hope to soon introduce Annette to the acquaintance of my betrothed,” Ashe replied, his voice a little strained by his sudden onset of nerves. For a moment, Gustave looked stricken. He cast a suspicious gaze toward Mercedes’ left hand, satisfied himself that there was no ring and therefore she had not been the one to snatch his chosen bachelor from his daughter, and then gave a sharp nod.

“I’m sure both ladies will benefit from the connection. I wasn’t aware you’d engaged anyone, Sir Ubert.”

“To my great happiness, I was accepted just two days ago by Miss Hapi Timotheos.” His ears were a little pink, but he held his ground in the face of Gustave’s subtle displeasure.

“Hm. A family of rising distinction and wealth. You have chosen well.” Gustave hesitated, then added, “I wish you joy. Marriage is a blessing.”

Annette almost lost her countenance at that.  _ Oh is it, Father? I wonder if Mother would say the same? _ But of course her mother would agree. The Dominics did their duty, after all, and one such duty was keeping up appearances.

The group settled down for tea. Gustave told them stories of a series of battles he’d fought in his youth against Almyran raiders. The mountains of Fódlan’s throat made for a dramatic backdrop, and Ashe forgot his nervousness while listening to the tale. For Annette, the moment was a painful reminder of what she’d lost: once she’s been a little girl in their estate’s library listening to her father tell her stories of brave knights and fair maidens. But then he’d disappeared off to Fhirdiad. Now his stories were lessons for squires and young knights, and if Annette’s presence was to be tolerated it was because of her ingenuity and not his approbation.

“Sir Ubert, would you mind going ahead with Miss Bertritz? I would like a moment to talk with my daughter,” Gustave said as the tea things were cleared away. Ashe bowed and offered his arm to Mercedes. She accepted and with one last meaningful look at Annette, allowed him to lead her out of the room. Gustave waited until the door had closed behind them before turning to Annette.

“You let that young man slip through your fingers,” he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Annette, try to understand: I only want you to be safe and comfortable. It is time for you to take the next step in life and stop running around like a headstrong girl.”

“And rushing me into marriage with the first man of sufficient rank is the best way you can think of to secure my safety and comfort? Sir Ubert seems to be an excellent man and I’m sure we would have made a perfectly respectable couple, but...what if he made me unhappy? Would it be so bad for me to remain single for another year or two?”

“You can’t put off your responsibilities forever. You are an intelligent, hardworking young woman that would be a credit to any man’s home. Your notions of romance are holding you back and you’re using me as an excuse to procrastinate.” Gustave’s expression was forbidding and his words lashed at her, too true to argue against and yet somehow unfair.

“Father—”   
  
“No, Annette.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the sharpness in his tone brought her up short anyway. “You think I have abandoned you, but I have my duties to the crown. My estate doesn’t afford me enough money to have you and your mother with me here in the capital. This is where my work is. Your mother’s work is in our home. She does not object to this, so why do you?”

Annette’s stomach dropped to her ankles. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She stood, chest aching, and curtsied to him as though he were a perfect stranger.

“Good day, Father,” she said through numb lips. Then she turned and exited his office without a single glance back.

* * *

Mercedes had sent over one of her mystery novels in hopes of distracting her careworn friend, and Annette spent the whole of the next day quietly pursuing it. If her mother thought this subdued activity was a worrying change from Annette’s endless activity, she made no comment.

Then, all too soon, it was time to return to the barracks for Dedue’s knighting ceremony. Cora helped her dress while watching her closely with large, concerned eyes, but Annette said nothing. Baron Dominic arrived soon after to drive them to the palace in his large coach, and as soon as she reasonably could, she slipped away from her family and searched through the crowd of attendees for any familiar faces.

Ashe was with a group of knights on the other side of the room, dressed in the traditional surcoat of the Royal Guard. He was a part of the ceremony and couldn’t mingle with the guests, but he gestured to a spot in the crowd and she was relieved to see Mercedes and Sylvain talking with Dedue. She waved her thanks to Ashe and made her way over to her friends.

“You don’t look well,” Mercedes said. She laid a hand on Annette’s arm and murmured a prayer to the Goddess. There was a soft glow and the sensation of a cool, refreshing breeze. Suddenly she felt a little less like she’d cried herself to sleep for two nights, and she offered her friend a grateful smile.

In all honesty, Sylvain was the one that didn’t look well. He was pale and there was a tightness around eyes that were slightly bloodshot. His shoulders were tight with tension and Annette wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he hadn’t slept much lately either. He flashed Annette a smile which, while a mere shadow of his usual grin, was genuine.

“How lucky Dedue is, to have so many beautiful ladies here to support him,” he said, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

“I have been blessed with such company,” Dedue agreed, but his eyes lingered on Mercedes. She gave a shy laugh and Annette realized that her friend’s plans for life in the Church were doomed. She was undoubtedly completely in love with the knight from Duscur. And in return, his own eyes glowed with his deep love for her.

Baron Martritz would likely attempt to halt any marriage between them, but Mercedes—while being a perfect daughter—had never seemed overly concerned with his plans for her. Annette didn’t think this would be any different. People thought Mercedes was nothing but amiable and gentle, but there was steel at her core. She wouldn’t bend if her future happiness was at stake.

“Ah.” Sylvain swallowed hard. “Ingrid and Felix are here.”

The group followed his gaze and found he was right: the pair of them were in a different part of the crowd. Ingrid looked just as tired and miserable as Sylvain did, and Felix looked frustrated. His eyes met Annette’s across the room and he gave her an exasperated look, but Ingrid remained rooted to the spot and he didn’t leave her.

A blast of music interrupted any further conversation. The princes walked into the room, Dimitri tall and lithe in his costume of silver and azure and Khalid confident and affable in emerald and gold. While Dimitri took his place on the step below the throne, Khalid came to offer his congratulations to Dedue. Then a second blast of music, more elaborate, announced the arrival of the king.

King Lambert was as tall as his son and clad in elaborate robes of state. A ceremonial sword hung from his belt, and sapphires and diamonds glittered on his hands, at his neck, and on his golden crown. He climbed the dais and stood in front of the throne. The ceremony began.

Dedue swore his oaths, then was anointed and dubbed with King Lambert’s sword. He was given his new surcoat. His more modern uniforms had already been provided, and the king granted him a pension and a small estate near the border with Duscur. Then he was charged with standing a vigil through the night. In the morning, he would officially be a knight of the realm appointed to Prince Dimitri’s personal guard.

When the ceremony was over, Felix all but dragged Ingrid across the room toward the others. Beside Annette, Sylvain stiffened at their approach. But when Ingrid came to a stop in front of him, he managed a smile and bowed over her hand with a courtly flourish, pressed his lips to her knuckles and asked both she and Felix how they did.

“I told you it would be fine,” Felix said to Ingrid. All the women in the party glared at him, but Sylvain chuckled.

“Ah Felix, you always manage to charm wherever you go.” His attention turned to Ingrid. “You look lovely. The rouge is nice. N-not that you need it! But it...well, you know.”

Ingrid flushed and Annette wondered if all hope was lost for them after all. As she looked back and forth between the pair, Felix stepped up beside her. He was close enough that their arms were brushing, and while the focus of the group remained on Ingrid and Sylvain he took the opportunity to catch her hand and give her fingers a gentle squeeze.

Annette gasped at the quiet display of affection and his hand was gone in a flash, but he didn’t move away from her and when she looked up at him, he offered her a shy smile.

_ Oh.  _ Her heart thrummed in her chest. “Felix—“

Before she could figure out what to say, Prince Dimitri joined the group.

“Forgive me for interrupting, but Annette—have I heard right? We’re to meet at your residence next week when the Mittelfrank Opera is performing?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Highness. My mother will be attending and she’s going to give the servants the night off,” Annette replied.

“Very well. I will inform Prince Khalid.” He tried to smile, but his eyes were troubled. “We’re in your debt.”

She shook her head “Not at all. I’m very glad to help.”

“You think we can trust Khalid’s information?” Felix asked Dimitri.

“I don’t know,” their prince replied slowly, “but if the crown and the succession are in danger, I need to be prepared. And the more information we have, the better prepared I can be.”

“We’ll be there to support you, Your Highness,” Sylvain promised. And though she was starting to feel as though she was in a bit over her head, Annette nodded along with the others. If saving the prince meant saving her family, she was prepared to join this coalition.

Felix was the last to agree. He looked from the prince to Annette, then sighed heavily.

“This is a bad idea,” he warned the group, “but I suppose I’ll be seeing you all next week.” Then, while Dimitri nodded to them all and headed back out into the crowd, he leaned over and added, “You owe me a song for this.”

And she supposed, just this once, that he was right.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You truly mean to go?” she asked. He glanced at Sylvain and sighed.
> 
> “Sylvain has just lost his brother and had his heart broken. I’m afraid he’ll try something reckless and get himself hurt. I need to look after him.”
> 
> “I’m not singing for you until you get back, Felix Fraldarius—so you had better not do anything reckless either.”
> 
> That brought a smile to his lips. “I’ll write to you,” he promised.
> 
> Annette shook her head, smiling. “I don’t write to villains.”

The Mittelfrank Opera swept into town a few days later. The Imperial performers had been called the best in the world and everyone in Fhirdiad buzzed with conversation about the divas, their fashions and costumes, which _coiffeur_ they might patronize while in the capital or which _modiste_ might benefit from their custom. Most absurd of all was that everyone discovered their great passion for music over the course of a single night.

Annette would have dearly liked to attend a show. She loved to sing and had spent more than a few evenings during her childhood daydreaming of doing so on a stage. She hadn't been lying when she’d told her mother that she wished to see Manuela Casagranda perform before she retired. But this wasn’t meant to be.

Instead, she complained the night before the Opera’s debut of stomach trouble. In the morning, she didn’t go down to breakfast. Lady Dominic was informed her daughter was ill. When she came to see for herself, Annette managed to convince her that she was really afflicted.

“Shall I stay with you tonight?” Lady Dominic asked.

“I would hate for you to miss the show, Mother. Please go, I’ll stay in bed and rest.”

“Cora should stay with you.”

“We’ve promised her a day off.” Annette shook her head and sank deeper into the covers. “I’ll stay in bed and sleep or read. The cook already prepared our meals so if I get hungry there will be plenty.”

“I hate to leave you alone…”

“I’ll call for Mercedes. She had a talent for Faith magic. By the time you get home, she’ll have me completely mended.”

Lady Dominic stared at her daughter for a long moment, and Annette wondered if she had gotten suspicious. But her mother only nodded and said, “Very well. I’ll send the boy to the ambassador’s house. Please rest. I’ll bring up some broth in a little while.”

Mercedes joined them in the afternoon, freeing Annette from her mother’s hovering. When Lady Dominic went to her own apartments to dress, Mercedes said, “Everything is in place. Prince Dimitri and the others will arrive fifteen minutes after the curtain lifts.”

“Good,” Annette replied, though a flare of anxiety rose quickly up through her stomach and to her throat. “Everyone will be out of the house by then.”

The wait was interminable, but Mercedes and Annette passed the time with a few rounds of whist. The minutes dragged by until Lady Dominic swept into the room to kiss her daughter goodbye. When she had been carried off in the carriage toward the opera house, the servants checked in with Annette one last time and then headed out into the city for a night of leisure.

Prince Dimitri and Dedue arrived first. The prince was in plain clothing and wore a hat tugged low over his brow and a scarf over his mouth. Thankfully, the nights were still cold enough for this not to arouse any suspicion. Ingrid came next, followed shortly by Sylvain and Felix. Mercedes showed them all into the parlor while Annette arranged refreshments. She wasn’t sure what proper etiquette was for a clandestine meeting but she felt reasonably certain that no one would turn down a cup of tea.

Finally, after a wait just long enough to make everyone uneasy, Prince Khalid appeared. There was a woman with him, heavily cloaked and wearing sturdy boots.

“So.” Felix stared at the Almyran prince with his hands on his hips. “Why are we all here?”

“Felix,” Ingrid hissed, “it’s bad enough you treat _our_ prince with such disrespect, but—“

“No need to worry, Miss Galatea.” Prince Khalid smiled patiently. “Distrust is nothing new to me.”

Prince Dimitri was staring at him too, his eyes wary. He looked almost afraid of what Khalid’s information might be. Dedue stood beside him, his own countenance betraying nothing, though the matter must have touched him deeply too, since it was his people that had been labeled murderers with regicide in their hearts.

Annette moved around the group, seeking her usual place beside Mercedes and Felix. Both usually exhibited a kind of calm control that made Annette feel more confident by proxy, but tonight Felix was tense and uneasy.

“This is Byleth,” Khalid said, indicating the woman that had entered the house with him. She removed the hood of her cloak and Annette saw with a start that she was beautiful, with dark hair and eyes and skin like moonlight. If she was surprised to find herself surrounded by the prince of Faerghus and a pack of the nobility’s offspring, she didn’t look it. She simply drank in the sight of the room’s occupants and waited for her companion to continue.

“Byleth has a very unique talent for gathering information. She’s also quite lethal,” Khalid explained. He sounded extremely proud of this fact, as though it was his own prowess he was lauding. Still, Byleth did not react. Khalid focused on Dimitri. “I’d like to send her into Duscur and I thought I’d give you a chance to send a few of your own people with her.”

Beside Annette, Felix shifted uneasily.

“To what end?” Dimitri asked.

“For quite some time now, my spies have been trying to track down the truth of what happened to Queen Patricia. I understand she was on a diplomatic mission to Duscur when she was killed?” Khalid asked. Dimitri nodded.

“She went to offer support and supplies in the aftermath of a landslide that nearly destroyed an entire village. Our relations with Duscur had been deteriorating and my father thought this would be a sign of our goodwill.”

“And your reports indicated that her convoy was surrounded by Duscan rebels and torn to shreds, correct? There were no survivors, if my memory serves.”

Dimitri’s fists had clenched hard and his face had turned to stone. Every muscle in his back was rigid. “That is correct,” he replied in a hollow voice.

“Yet there are rumors that your stepmother may be alive.” Byleth’s voice was soft and serene, but it immediately commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

“You’re saying the queen consort _faked her death?”_ Sylvain sputtered. Ingrid looked just as outraged.

“That’s impossible,” she snapped. “Why would she do something like that? And if she had, why go into exile in Duscur when her daughter is on the verge of becoming the Empress of Adrestia?”

Khalid shot her an approving smile. “Very astute. Your Highness, you’re lucky to have such clever friends.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed. He ignored Khalid’s praise and kept his gaze on Byleth. “I don’t like the implications of that.”

“You shouldn’t.” Byleth turned to Dimitri. Something sympathetic flickered in her eyes. “I suspect very strongly that Queen Patricia didn’t survive that day. In fact, we believe that the rumors refer to someone else from the Kingdom.”

“You will clarify,” Dedue ordered when it was clear that Dimitri couldn’t respond himself.

“We believe a sorceress named Cornelia is the true exile. We also believe she orchestrated the attack on the queen consort. I’m not sure why, but I’d dearly love to ask her myself,” Khalid said.

“As would I,” Dimitri added. The flat, frigid edge to his voice made Annette shiver. His eyes didn’t waver from Khalid’s face. “What stake do you have in all of this?”

Khalid exchanged a glance with Byleth, then sighed. “The Imperial Princess has been very subtle, but she has quietly asked my family whether or not we would support her if she were to declare war on both the Kingdom and Duscur.”

“Declare war on Faerghus? Why?” Felix demanded.

“Her view seems to be that the Kingdom did not do enough to punish those responsible for her mother’s death. She finds King Lambert’s lack of retaliation to be a mark of his apathy and disrespect for the late queen.” Khalid sighed. “Princess Edelgard may be looking to gain control of all of Fódlan, or her grief may be sincere. Either way, she appears to be considering launching an invasion as soon as her father departs this world.”

“Is this alliance not to your benefit?” Dimitri asked coldly.

Khalid’s lips twitched, but Byleth laid a hand on his arm and he brought his temper back under control. “Not if she turns her attention to Almyra when she’s done with you. There’s another reason to resist her plan as well: I’d like to foster friendly relations with the outside world, and invading our neighbors would not help me to convince others of my sincerity on that point.”

Annette’s head was spinning with all of the intrigue and talk of war. The situation was worse than she’d expected, and she suddenly wished she’d just gone along with her uncle’s plans and married. Then she would have been far away from discussions of assassination and invasion.

“Excuse me, but...what will the party traveling to Duscur be doing?”

“Ah, excellent question, Miss Dominic.” Khalid gestured to Byleth. “I was hoping that Byleth would lead an operation to capture the sorceress Cornelia and bring her back to Fhirdiad. If she can be made to confess, you can turn her over to Princess Edelgard and deny her the excuse to declare war, while at the same time rescuing your relationship with Duscur.”

“And what would you claim as a reward for your assistance?” Felix asked.

“Negotiations for a lasting peace between Almyra and the Kingdom, better trading agreements in this land and new trading routes to Duscur,” Khalid said promptly. “Open borders and free exchange of information, as well.”

Dimitri took a steadying breath, then nodded. “Very well. Dedue will accompany Miss Byleth. I will not order the others to do so, but—“

“I could use a break from the capital,” Sylvain said. “I’ll go.”

Felix suppressed a groan. “You’ll get everyone killed. _I’ll_ go.”

 _No!_ Annette wanted to cry. Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip to keep the word from escaping.

“We’ll both go,” Sylvain replied, “I was serious about leaving the capital behind.”

Angry color flooded Ingrid’s cheeks. She looked ready to launch into a speech in her own defense, but thought better of it at the last moment.

“I wish it were possible for we ladies to go as well. I’m sure Annette’s magic and Ingrid’s strength would be useful, and I could offer my services as a healer…but it would be so much harder to explain our leaving,” Mercedes said slowly, and Annette knew she was thinking that Ingrid almost certainly would have volunteered if she could have.

“Byleth will be ready to leave in three days,” Khalid said.

“Then we will be as well,” Sylvain said.

“Excellent. Now, intermission will be soon and Prince Dimitri and I had better make our appearance. Shall we, Your Highness?” Khalid gestured toward the parlor door.

Dimitri glanced around at their group. “I can only thank you. If I could go in your stead, I would. Yet I know you will be successful. Whatever assistance I can offer is yours.”

The princes left, along with Dedue and Byleth. Mercedes trailed after, managing to speak softly to Dedue before he mounted a horse to follow Prince Dimitri to the opera house. Annette decided to follow her lead, and she caught Felix’s arm before he could follow the royals out into the night.

“You truly mean to go?” she asked. He glanced at Sylvain and sighed.

“Sylvain has just lost his brother and had his heart broken. I’m afraid he’ll try something reckless and get himself hurt. I need to look after him.”

“I’m not singing for you until you get back, Felix Fraldarius—so you had better not do anything reckless either.”

That brought a smile to his lips. “I’ll write to you,” he promised.

Annette shook her head, smiling. “I don’t write to villains.”

He tore his eyes away and stared at the wall as color flooded his cheeks, but he managed to ask, “Do you write to lovers?”

Annette’s whole body was suddenly hot and her chest tightened in shock—but the warmth turned into a shivery pleasure the very next moment, and she looked down at her shoes with a shy smile when she replied, “Only one.”

“Good. I’ll...I’ll be back to say farewell before we go, but I had better take my leave for now.” He took her hand. “Goodnight, Annette.”

“Goodnight, Felix,” Annette replied, and he leaned over to brush his lips over her cheek before disappearing through the door. The second he was gone, she collapsed into a chair and pressed her hands to her cheeks. Only then did she remember that she was not at all alone in the room.

Her eyes lifted to find Ingrid, Mercedes and Sylvain staring at her.

“Well,” Sylvain said, as usual being the first to recover from a shock, “it seems congratulations are in order.”

His grin was infuriating and Annette seized a nearby throw pillow to launch at him. He caught it with ease.

“Oh, Annie!” Mercedes cried before Sylvain could keep teasing her, “I’m so happy for you!”

“I am too. It’s about time Felix confessed to his affection for you. I was getting tired of the constant sword training. He never wants to use lances,” Ingrid said.

“His father doesn’t approve,” Annette reminded them.

Sylvain waved a dismissive hand. “That’s not going to stop Felix. Just wait; Duke Fraldarius will stomp about and yell and put on a grand old show, but Felix will do exactly as he pleases.”

Ingrid nodded her agreement, and Mercedes took Annette’s hands and pulled her from her seat. 

“I predict a wedding in the autumn,” she said, eyes glowing. “So you’d better tell me exactly how much embroidery you’d like on your dress, because I’ll need to get started right away!”

Annette tried to tell them that they had all gotten far—very far—ahead of themselves, but in the end all she could do was endure Sylvain’s teasing and Mercedes’ wedding planning while Ingrid claimed her status as an honorary aunt to all future Fraldarius babies. By the time her friends had all left, her cheeks felt as though they’d never be any color but red again. Exhausted and still stunned by the events of the evening, she climbed back into her bed and was sound asleep when Lady Dominic returned two hours later.

* * *

Duke Fraldarius publically forbade Felix from marrying Annette Dominic the next day. The scandal sheets blared the news across Fhirdiad. Annette tried not to let this bother her, but she paced through the garden for a couple hours anyway. Her mother tutted at teh paper, set it down on the breakfast table, and then wrote a letter to their steward back home indicating her desire to be back before the end of the season.

Then the day of departure arrived. Felix called on them just after tea.

“Is it wise to defy your father so openly, Lord Fraldarius?” Lady Dominic asked mildly.

“His Grace will soon find something else to thunder about,” Felix replied, and Lady Dominic let the subject drop. It didn’t appear as though she was going to leave the young people to themselves, but at last she excused herself to meet with the housekeeper.

“We leave tonight,” Felix informed Annette when they had the room to themselves.

“Will you be gone long?”

“A few weeks. Dimitri dares not send us longer than that.”

Annette’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure how long we’ll stay in Fhirdiad. This hasn’t been a very productive season for me. Mother is beginning to talk seriously of taking me home.”

“Dominic isn’t so far from Fraldarius,” Felix replied, “and I have no particular desire to stay in the capital.”

Would he really follow her to Dominic territory to propose? He hadn’t yet indicated that his thoughts had turned to marriage, but he seemed so confident of a continuing acquaintance...she could hardly imagine him asking for her hand, but the thought of him disappearing from her life was too painful to picture.

“Do you think you can find Cornelia in so short a time?” Annette asked, trying to control her spiraling emotions.

“I’m confident. That Byleth woman is in contact with Prince Khalid’s spy network and Dedue’s help will speed us along.” Felix’s face twisted. “Cornelia was suspected in the death of Dimitri’s mother, too. That’s why she was exiled in the first place. I hope this time she gets thrown into the deepest dungeon we have.”

“I wish I could help. I have a talent for magic,” she said.

“I’m glad you can’t go. Sylvain will be distracting enough. While you’re here I won’t have to worry about you too.”

“Are you flirting?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He glared at her but his ears went pink. “Of course not.”

 _If you say so,_ she thought, unable to stop the giggle that escaped her. He shook his head at her and let out an exasperated sigh. Then he stood.

“I had better make my last minute preparations.”

Annette stood as well. “Be safe, Felix. And keep Sylvain safe too. Ingrid would be devastated if anything were to happen to him whether she wants to admit it or not.”

He promised and she walked him to the door. There was another excruciating pause as Felix stopped and turned to her again. Then he reached out and tugged her into his arms. Annette gasped but didn’t fight it, and for one indulgent moment she held him back. Then he pulled free and slipped out of the door without another word.

* * *

While the men were gone, spring bloomed in Fhirdiad. Flowers burst to life in gardens and filled window boxes. Warm breezes chased away the last of the snow, and while the evenings could still be frosty, most everyone took their exercise outside to enjoy the milder weather. Soon all the scenic walks and parks of the capital were filled with people promenading with their friends or suitors.

For a while, the gossip sheets speculated about the motives for the departure of both the future duke and the future margrave. Such high-ranking bachelors were rare and the loss of them both was a huge blow to the ambitious ladies in the marriage market. Annette and Ingrid were mentioned as possible scapegoats. Lord Fraldarius being forbidden to marry Annette had clearly driven him out of the city. The writer only hoped that he would come to his senses and marry a woman of a more appropriate rank. And Ingrid’s cruel rejection had broken Lord Gautier’s heart and must have spurred a similar retreat.

That this was somewhat partially true with relation to Sylvain didn’t make the wild speculations about the rest any less ridiculous.

Felix kept his promise to write, and Dedue wrote to Mercedes as well. Sylvain was an eager correspondent, and he was keen to share details of Duscur’s countryside. He drew little landscapes in the margins of his letters or else added studies of the various wildflowers. He had a talent for drawing.

Then—silence.

Annette tried not to worry. It wouldn’t do a bit of good to spend her days fretting about their well-being. Yet try as she might to remain composed and pragmatic, her feet still wore the carpet in her bedroom down to nothing.

The baron and Lady Dominic, thwarted by Sir Ubert and with no hope of an attachment to Lord Fraldarius thanks to his father’s disapproval, began preparations for their return to Dominic territory.

“We must come up with a plan,” Mercedes said over tea one afternoon. Ingrid frowned thoughtfully as she helped herself to the tea tray. Sandwich after sandwich were placed on her plate as she considered the problem.

“You can’t leave before the others get back,” Ingrid agreed.

“I’m not sure anything can convince my mother to stay now,” Annette admitted.

“Are you going to Miss Goneril’s musical party on Friday at least?” Mercedes asked.

“Yes.” Annette recalled Hilda’s invitation and laughed. “Though she warned me that she is quite tone-deaf and would prefer to dance.”

“She’s...not absolutely terrible,” Ingrid said slowly. Then she laughed too. “But I _am_ hopeless. Maybe I’ll play the pianoforte and spare the company from my unfortunate serenades.”

Mercedes smiled at Annette. “Annie and I will enjoy singing, won’t we?”

“Oh yes! I wrote a new song. I hope Miss Goneril won’t mind if I try it out.”

As they all chatted about the party and tried to avoid discussing their worries for their absent friends, their boy (a servant boy named Bastien that was fascinated by Annette’s magic) appeared with a note.

“It’s from Prince Dimitri,” Annette said after she’d opened it. “He’s had a letter from Dedue. They managed to capture Cornelia. Sylvain is—oh Ingrid, I’m sorry. He’s been hurt. It isn’t too grim and they should be back in Fhirdiad as soon as they can manage.”

Ingrid fork had stopped halfway to her mouth and she’d immediately gone pale though she said nothing. Annette tried to pass her the note, but her mind was already elsewhere. Her utensil lowered back to her plate and she pushed it slightly away.

“Are you alright, Ingrid?” Mercedes asked. She looked ready to jump to her friend’s aid. Ingrid didn’t answer her right away and she was just on the verge of standing and circling the table when the silence was broken.

“Oh _Goddess._ ” Ingrid buried her face in her hands. “Why did I have to fall in love with such a _reckless—_ such a _foolish—_ He had better be in one piece when they return or I shall never forgive him for leaving me behind!”

“I’m sure he’ll make a full recovery. Dedue is honest by nature and he wouldn’t have lied to Prince Dimitri,” Mercedes assured her. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“I’ll pack up the food, Ingrid. You can take it along and eat it when you’re feeling better,” Annette said, rising to fetch a basket and cloth.

When they were gone, Ingrid with a basket full of food and Mercedes with a gentle squeeze and a promise to see her soon, Annette sank back into her chair. Dedue hadn’t mentioned Felix. She knew this meant he was perfectly alright, but there was a hollow feeling in her chest that reminded her that she missed him.

“Hurry,” she murmured to herself. “I need to see you before I leave.”

* * *

Hilda’s musical party was packed with young women and instruments. Annette squeezed in and found a seat among the other girls meaning to sing while Ingrid took a place near the pianoforte and Mercedes admired a handsome lyre that seemed perfect for her.

Hilda herself was opening a strangely shaped case. She lifted out a very strange, stringed instrument. The body looked rather like an hourglass and it was as long as the guitars that came from Rysalka, a region in the south of Adrestia.

“It’s called a _tar_ ,” Hilda explained when she realized how closely Annette was studying the instrument. “It was a gift from Prince Khalid. I have no idea what to do with it, but it is unique.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Annette said. “You’ll have to convince him to teach us how to play it properly.”

Hilda flashed a mischievous grin. “He never misses a chance to show off. I’m sure we’ll talk him into it without any difficulty.”

Obviously their fake courtship was alive and well. Annette giggled and Hilda gave her sleeve a playful tweak before heading to the front of the room to begin their cozy little concert.

They played for about an hour before it was her turn to stand up and sing. She handed Mercedes the sheet music and began her song, thinking with a pang that Felix would have liked to be here. He had teased her about her lyrics in his letters and often reminded her that she owed him a performance. This was ridiculous: she’d only promised him one song. But if he came back victorious and unharmed, she supposed she could submit to one or two extra as a reward.

She was just reaching the most rousing part of the song when a movement in the window caught her eye. A carriage emblazoned with the royal coat of arms stopped in the street in front of the house. A moment later, her voice had faded into an astonished silence as Prince Dimitri and Prince Khalid emerged, followed by Dedue, Sylvain and Felix.

They were home.

* * *

After the commotion of an unexpected royal arrival and a general shifting of seats to squeeze in a few more occupants, the party continued. Sylvain’s arm was in a sling and by his own account he was going to have quite a scar down the left side of his back, but otherwise he seemed as well as could be expected. When one of the Ordelia sisters tried to sit next to him, he grimaced a bit but tried to smile through the pain. Ingrid immediately insisted that the girl swap seats with her. This was done without much cordiality, but Ingrid didn’t back down until she’d had her way. Khalid made a grand show of playing the _tar_ Annette had observed earlier.

While he strummed the instrument, the rest of the Duscur conspirators gathered in a corner.

“It’s done. She’s being held in a cell on the palace grounds,” Dimitri murmured, quiet enough not to be heard over the music.

“There are cells near the palace?” Annette asked, surprised. Then she flushed and said, “Of course there are, sorry. Please continue.”

“She put up a fight, I’ll give her that,” Sylvain commented, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It was too easy.” Felix crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s gotten away with murder—twice—and eluded capture for years. Something else is going on.”

“Me almost getting killed was too easy?” A wrinkle appeared between Sylvain’s eyes. “Besides, why would she _want_ to get caught? Exile might not be ideal but killing two queens ensures she’d receive a traitor’s death. It makes no sense that she’d let a small group of vigilantes outflank her now.”

“We’ll keep a close eye on her. If there is some sort of trick or plot, she won’t get an opportunity to set it in motion,” Dimitri assured them.

“And when she’s been tried and the people of Duscur are vindicated...you’ll be safe?” Annette asked him.

“Cornelia does pose the most dangerous and immediate threat. The royal family is never completely safe but with this behind us, a lot of our problems would recede.”

“Then my father could retire, knowing you’ll be secure here with the rest of the Royal Guard?”

“We would be sad to see him go, of course, but I’d say that is a fair assessment.”

Annette nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you for helping me restore my family.”

That was as much as they dared discuss, even with the music to drown out their conversation. The group split back up and retook their seats. Felix remained at Annette’s side.

“Are you sure having your father back is what you really want?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “It’s been my dearest wish for a long time.”

“What if he still won’t return?”

“I can’t think like that.” Annette realized she was twisting her wrists with anxious fingers and stopped before the friction could chafe her skin. “The whole point of this season was getting him back. And he must love us, at least a little.”

Felix’s eyebrows drew tight. “What if you could start over? He doesn’t have to be essential to your happiness.”

“He’s my father.” Her voice was louder than she would have liked. Some of the other women turned to look at them and she bit her lip and tried not to let her emotions show quite so readily.

“Yes, and he has shown far more concern for Prince Dimitri’s welfare than your own,” Felix argued.

“Stop.” Annette bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. “If you want us to remain friends—stop.”

He stiffened beside her. “Very well,” he said after a moment. They didn’t speak again for the remainder of the evening.


End file.
